Don't worry - we get all kinds round here
by Johnlocked1895
Summary: Collection of sweet Johnlock drabbles. Rated M for paranoia. I will soon start posting once a week again. I adore prompts so don't be shy. -enjoy my dearest Mariah-
1. Telling Lestrade

'Sherlock. I am NOT picking up your clothes! They're your clothes! You pick them up!'

'But John! You were the one who threw them all around the room when you were insistent on shedding me of clothes. I certainly wasn't the one screaming -_Sherlock! You are wearing way to many clothes! How do you expect me to-' _

'Sherlock. Please'

_'Sherlock. Take of your shirt. I ne-' _

'DAMNIT! I'm picking it up Sherlock.' John chuckled. No matter the situation Sherlock will never understand what's socially accepted. John wouldn't have it any other way.

John bent over to pick up his pants. Just as he grasp the rumpled red fabric, he received a small playful pop on the arse. He jumped. John spun around before he gave Sherlock a half-hearted scolding. John pulled up his pants and tossed Sherlock his pants.

'At least put these on. Don't need Mrs. Hudson walking to see you... Indecent.' Sherlock slipped on the pants before flopping on the couch. John clambered on top of him after quickly buttoning on Sherlock deep purple shirt. They wiggle around before getting comfortable and flipping on the telly. The crap telly show played in the background as they languidly kissed between idle conversation.

**_Beep_**

Sherlock's phone rang out signaling he had received a text message. He groaned and threw his long arm towards the sound. He gently patted around till he felt the cool metal. Sherlock briefly scanned the message before chucking the phone to his chair on the opposite end of the room. He closed his eyes and draped his arms back around John.

'Who was it? If its important I can get up.' John shifted as he tried to get up. He was stopped by Sherlock's strong arms holding him down and snuggling his face into John's hair.

'No. Just Lestrade. Rather stay here.' His sentences were chopped up a muffled by John blond hair. John smiled before relaxing against Sherlock again.

'Speaking of Lestrade. When are we going to tell him? Ya know. About us?' John questioned.

'Is it necessary to announce our relationship status? I know. You know. That's all that matters. I don't see where Lestrade fits into this relationship. Unless you've had some odd fantasy I wasn't aware of tha-'

'No. Nope. God No. He is our friend and has been betting on us as a couple since he saw me first, so I thought he should know. We don't have to tell him.'

'We'll tell him when we see him next.' John hummed in approval.

'Thanks, love. Who's going to tell him?'

'I was hoping we could just make out in Scotland Yard over a dead body' John slapped him gently making Sherlock chuckle. 'I guess we can decide when we cross that bridge. I'm not too concerned. I know he supports us, so no matter how we come out, it will be fine.'

'Suppose so.' John brought up his head to align with Sherlock. He bent over to kiss him again. Albeit they loved chasing murderers all around London, they also loved this domestic bliss. One no one would have expected of these two men. The disregarded clicker hit the floor and Sherlock's fingers wove into John's hair. Their leisurely pace wasn't especially sexual or passionate. It was a peaceful lazy kiss. They were snogging just for the sake of snogging.

'SHER-' Lestrade flew into the room. After Sherlock ignored his request for his assistance on what he assumed to be an important case, Lestrade did the only sensible thing. Drugs bust. 'Lock.'

Lestrade was frozen in the door frame. Luckily none of the other members of the Yard had come up yet. He was utterly shocked at what was before him. John in pants and Sherlock's purple shirt. Sherlock wearing only pants. And they were curled around each other!

'I mean I'm happy for ya, but... bloody hell.'

'Sherlock. I think it's time to cross that bridge.' Sherlock chuckled.

' Yes. No hiding it now. So, who is going to tell him?'

' I'll do it. You've never been too good at this kind of thing anyway.' John laughed. 'Lestrade. I have something to tell you.'

'Yeah. John. I get it. I'll just -uh- leave.' Lestrade cleared his throat. ' well -uh- have fun. With... With.. Whatever... This is?'

'Thanks, mate.' When the door slammed shuts they heard rushed steps down the 17 stairs to the second door. Sherlock and John began to laugh at their flustered friend.

'I guess we don't have to worry about telling him anymore.' Sherlock smirked. 'But now we have to figure out how to top THAT when we tell the Yard!'


	2. Happy birthday, John

A/N: just a couple little notes for you

1. These are all un beta-ed and I'm not the best at grammar. If there is something horrendous do tell so I can edit it.

2. If you have requests I'd love write them up for you :)

3. I'm American (sadly) so if something comes across as not too British I apologize.

John awoke to an empty bed. He wasn't too surprised. Sherlock most likely had woken up hours ago and gotten up to experiment on dismembered body parts. John let out a load groan before rolling over on the bed. It was his birthday. Another year older. He pushed his face into the pillow hoping he could just stop his birthday from happening if he didn't get up. No such luck.

Luckily for John his boyfriend's great mind deleted all useless information, like his birthday. In John's opinion, his birthday was useless.

'Morning.' John stumbled into the kitchen to make his daily tea.

'Good morning.' Sherlock said with out removing his head from his microscope. He was examining a rare bacteria. He'd told John what it was, but John could never remember that sort of thing. 'Lestrade has requested my presences at the yard today. He deems the case a 10, but I doubt it's above a 6.'

'Mmk.' John was still groggy and would be until he had tea. ' want me to come?'

'No.' Sherlock's reply was very quick and cold. John would have questioned it further had he been fully awake. After he placed the kettle on the hob he lumbered over to Sherlock and gave him a quick kiss. He wished him luck before Sherlock dashed out the door.

A few minutes later the kettle began to scream. John poured the boiling water into his mug and let it steep. After the tea had steeped for an appropriate amount of time, he went to his comfortable sitting chair. John sat and began to think about his birthday. Although he didn't really enjoy his birthday he couldn't help but be a little hurt. He was hoping to have a nice day with just him and Sherlock, but he could never ask Sherlock to give up a case for something so domestic. With a deep sigh he finished off his tea. John toddled off to place the mug and the sink to distracted to notice the tall detective was home again. Not until his long wiry arms wrapped around John's waist, at least.

'What's wrong?' Sherlock questioned before rest his head on John's shoulder. John pressed back against Sherlock enjoying the detective's hold.

'Nothing. I'm glad you're home.'

'Oh.' Sherlock said lamely. John turned to look at him. ' I have to go back, but you can come with me. Please?'

'Of course, love. I just have to get dressed. Can't very well leave in my pants.'

_~00o00~_

The cab ride over was quiet. John and Sherlock sat in the back holding hands. They never felt the need to have silly conversations just for the sake of talking and they were quite content in silence. The cabbie pulled up to the yard and Sherlock paid him. Which was a bit odd seeing as he always made John pay. John dismissed it and carried on to follow Sherlock.

Sherlock's strong lanky hand found John's more callous hand as they strolled into Lestrade's department. They took a couple unusual twist and turns toward a conference room.

'Where are we going?' John questioned. Sherlock blatantly ignored him. They came to the large door separating them from the conference room. Sherlock turned to John before he took off his scarf and wrapped it around John's eyes. John tried to protest, but he heard Sherlock whispering to him that it was okay. John trusted him. He listened to the doors being swung open and felt a hand push him inside. He stumbled into the room.

'SURPRISE!'

John's homemade blind fold was quickly removed to see a huge group of his friends huddled in the conference room. He was frozen in shock until Sherlock leaned forward to kiss him.

'Happy birthday, John.' Sherlock smirked as he pulled away. As soon as John was able to comprehend what was happening he smiled brightly. His crazy, emotionally detached, sociopath of a boyfriend had, not only remembered his birthday, but set up a surprise birthday party.

Everyone was there. The Yarders. His old army friends. Mike Stamford. Mrs. Hudson. A sober Harry. Even a few mates from uni. When John saw all of the trouble Sherlock went to he couldn't believe it. Early he had been wishing for a nice lie in day, but this was much better.

'Sherlock. You didn't!' John exclaimed before grabbing him for a nice long snog. He heard quite a few cheers and woof whistles, but John didn't care. He gently pulled away. 'I'm surprised you didn't delete my birthday. Ya know - useless information crowding your mind palace.'

'Even if my mind palace had an overflowing plethora of information' Sherlock gave him a quick peck for emphasis. 'I'd never delete your birthday.'


	3. 27 point 4 hours

'THAT'S NOT THE POINT SHERLOCK! When someone ask you why you love me, the answer is not I don't know. You told me you love me and other than the occasional shag you don't show it. All day you insult me. You tell me I'm not clever or that I'm oblivious. You treat me like I'm just a boy toy! And if I am a boy toy... 'John closed his eye and took a deep breath. 'I need air.'

With that John left. He was gone for hours. Sherlock just stood staring at the door in disbelief. Just because he didn't feel like taking the massive amount of time it would take to list all the reasons why he loved John, didn't mean he didn't love him. He did. It wasn't the young girl's business anyway! Sherlock sighed deeply and pick up his phone.

...

'It was the boyfriend. They probably got into some tiff and well...this happened.' Sherlock gestured toward the crime scene. 'God. Relationships. I don't understand why anyone bloody wants them!'

'But Sherlock... You and John-' Lestrade got cut off

'Yes I know!'

'Did something happen Sherlock?'

'Yes. Of course! Why did you think John come with me?'

'What happened?' Lestrade questioned further.

'We went to interrogate the wife of one of the victims and her little girl asked me why I love John. I said I didn't know.'

'What the hell Sherlock! You don't say that! Especially in front of John!'

'I just didn't feel like taking 27.4 hours it souls take to list everything!'

'27.4 hours?'

'Yes!' Sherlock huffed. 'If I was to verbally state every reason why I love John it would take 27.4 hours! Now can I leave?'

'Sherlock, have you ever stopped to tell him any of those reasons? Does John know why you love him? Or does he even know you do?'

Sherlock's heart jumped it his throat. He swallowed roughly. Did John know? Sherlock thought it was common knowledge. Anyone could see he did, but he had never really told John why.

That night Sherlock stopped at a store to but a few things. One sharpie. Some post-it notes. Some milk. John's favorite tea. And one item that was a bit pricier.

...

After John had been out for at least six hours before he returned. He had contemplated not coming home, but knew he was probably just over reacting. I mean, what could he really expect of Sherlock? Sherlock wasn't one for emotions. why would John be an exception?

He pushed open the door and stumbled up the 17 stairs to the second floor. Just as he reached for the door knob he noticed a post-it that Sherlock had scrawled on. He figured it was Sherlock's way of letting him know he'd gone on a case or something. With a bit of further inspection he found out he was wrong. Very wrong.

_ I love your jumpers_

John's heart skipped a beat. This note was no doubt for him. He smiled and peeled the post-it off of the door. When he moved to hang up his jacket he was greeted with another post-it note.

_ I love that you fought for our country_

Now John was flattered, but a bit suspicious. Where was Sherlock? He called out for Sherlock and received no answer. He dismissed it and moved to the kitchen to make some tea. This is when he saw his favorite tea sitting on the counter with a post-it note attached.

_I love how much tea you drink_

John laughed a bit at this. All the anger early completely drained from his body as he reached for a tea cup.

_ I love your loyalty_

He collected this note too. John went to the kettle that was already sitting on the hob.

_ I love the way you look during and after a thorough shag_

John scoffed. Only Sherlock would compliment him on the way he looked post-coital. John figured the best thing to do was to carry on his normal routine and opened the cabinet to look for sugar.

_I love that you don't think I'm a freak_

Then he opened the fridge for milk.

_I love that you truly care about me_

And the freezer for ice cubes.

_ I love your hobby of blogging_.

Soon John noticed them everywhere. On his chair. On Sherlock's chair. On the telly. On his laptop. On the coffee table. On the couch. On the desk. Next to Sherlock's microscope. On the mantle piece. On the lucky cat. On the mirror.

_ I love that you are protective_

_ I love that you aren't boring or stupid like Anderson_

_ I love when you come on cases with me_

_ I love when you watch crap telly_

_ I love the way you smile at me _

_ I love the way your hair is starting to get longer_

_ I love the way you handle a gun_

_ I love that you don't mind my experiments_

_ I love that you've saved my life in more than one way_

_ I love how you are clever when you don't try to be_

_ I love how you love me with all of your heart_

The last post-it had an arrow pointing to the hallway. John followed. And he saw the hallway was littered with post-it note. Each had a different reason why Sherlock loved John and an arrow pointing to the bedroom.

_I love that you tell when I'm being a bit not good_

_ I love how skilled you are at being a doctor_

_ I love how you came even though I said it could be dangerous_

At this point John was doing all he could to keep from crying furiously. His eyes were damp and tear clung to his lashes. John was holding all of the post-it notes he found so far and slowly removing the others with a shaky hand. When he came up to the door and read the last one he couldn't help but cry.

_I love how you always say yes_

John flung open the door and saw Sherlock awkwardly standing in their room. He was holding a small box. John ran to pull him into a right embrace when Sherlock stopped him.

'John. I won't get on one knee, but I'm sure you know what I'm about to ask.' John nodded his head frantically. His cheeks were riddled with many hot tears. His smile stretched from ear to ear and was a bit lopsided. Just like Sherlock loved. ' Will you, John Hamish Watson, marry me?'

Slowly Sherlock uncovered a ring from the box. It was a silver band. It was simple yet it was the most beautiful ring John had ever seen. Although, John might be a bit biased seeing as it was being given to him.

'Yes. Yes, of course.' John's voice was trembling and so was his hand as Sherlock slide on his ring.

...author'snote...

I'd love to thank those who reviewed/favorited/followed this story :)

So.. THANK YOU! I love you more than John loves Jam. Or Sherlock. Which is a lot.


	4. Positively insane!

This morning was no different than any other. John and Sherlock awoke tangled in each others arm. They got up made tea and ate breakfast. Well, John ate breakfast. It was the weekend so John didn't have to go to work and Lestrade didn't have any cases. It was going to be a boring day. That was until Sherlock suggested they went on a date.

'Sherlock? Are you ok? We haven't gone on a date in months! Why now?'

'You don't have work. I don't have a case and I don't fancy being bored.'

'So, were would only go because you're bored? Not because you actually want to go?'

'You know very well i don't do anything I don't want to do. I want to go on a date with you.'

'Oh. That's surprisingly nice and a bit romantic. Where will we go?' Sherlock scoffed.

'I was thinking we could go to the museum. They have a lovely exhibit on Pharaohs.'

'Well, that actually sounds enjoyable. Better than going on a date to the Yard, again.'

'I thought we agreed to forget that!' Sherlock yelped. John chuckled before leaving the kitchen to get dressed.

An hour or so later John emerged from their bedroom showered, dressed, and ready. He moved to put on his coat and tossed Sherlock his coat. They exited 221b Baker Street together.

'This is from Apepi's reign. He was ruler of the 15th dynasty. Apepi's reign lasted over 40 years. He ruled lower Egypt. Albeit, some argue that he also ruled upper Egypt. Which is absurd.' Sherlock made a valiant effort to explain the major points of each pharaoh's rule. After the third or fourth pharaoh John stopped listening to what he was saying. Instead he just admired Sherlock's excitement over the exhibit. John had never seen him so happy outside of a case.

'Oh! And this one is Kamose!' Sherlock dragged John along to admire another mummy. 'He died in battle. He was brave and strong. Much like you, John. That's probably why he is my favorite pharaoh.'

John blushed. Despite the fact he was being compared to the mummified body of a dead man it was one of sweetest thing Sherlock has ever said to him. Sherlock wasn't one for complimenting so when he did it always meant a lot. John squeezed his hand and thanked Sherlock.

'Quite all right. It's true though.' John gave him a questioning look. 'I mean about your bravery. It's one of your best qualities.'

Now John was grinning like a mad man. He was very happy Sherlock suggested a date early. They never went out alone enough and John had started to forget how enjoyable it could be.

'Um, Sherlock? I have to use the loo. I'll be right back. Just stay in this exhibit, please.' John released Sherlock's hand before ambling off to the bathroom. The line for the bathroom was surprisingly long for the men's room. Never the less, John waited. It took him a good 20 minutes before he returned to the exhibit with the Pharaohs. He worried Sherlock had gotten bored and done something crazy.

Luckily John was wrong. What Sherlock had done was way beyond crazy. Positively insane. Senile. Utterly absurd. Amazing daft. Ludicrous!

Sherlock was standing inside a display that was glassed off. He peered over the mummy in the tomb. He was clearly concentrating on something.

'Oh John! You're back! This one was murdered! They said he died of natural causes, but if you look he-' John cut off Sherlock.

'Sherlock! What do you think you are doing? Get the hell out of there before we get thrown out!' John raised his hand to scrub his face. 'Please, Sherlock. Just get out before you are arrested.'

'Yes. Of course.' Sherlock managed to escape the glass prison and slide over to John. 'I am sorry. I did not intend to upset you. I just required further inspection to collect conclusive data.'

'No. No. It fine. I'm not sure why I expected a normal outing.' John sighed and gestured toward the exit. 'Would you like to inform the museum of you findings before we leave?'

'Yes!' Sherlock shouted. 'Uh- I mean if that alright with you?'

'Might as well.'

'Thank you, John!' Sherlock pecked John's temple. 'You are absolutely perfect!'

Again John blushed furiously. From the opposite end of the room he watched Sherlock try to explain to the 'half-witted brainless drones' who worked at the museum that the pharaoh had actually been murdered. John chuckled. Suddenly he found the humor in all of this. He began to laugh harder and eventually was struggling to suppress his loud snickering.

Once Sherlock had given up on informing the staff of his new discovery, he came back to John's side.

'Are you hungry? I think I might actually eat something since we aren't on a case.'

'Starved.' John smiled up at Sherlock before taking his hand.

A/N:  
I wasn't very happy with the last chapter so I decided to post another today. Usually I skip a day in between, but CARPE DIEM! Sorry its so short.


	5. Mrs Arabella Holmes

A/N: mention of child abuse... If it triggers you... Don't read it :)

P.s. sorry it took so long to update... I kinda procrastinated with this story because I don't believe I did a great job at writing it. Well, I guess you judge it for yourself...

* * *

Arabella Holmes had requested to met her youngest son's new love interest and she always got what she wanted.

...

'John. Clear you schedule of anything you have planned for next weekend. You are busy.' Sherlock announced when he had returned from one of his bi-weekly kidnappings from Mycroft.

'Excuse me? I had plans to visit Harry! Don't I get a say?' John huffed.

'No. I don't either. Mycroft informed me that Mother has requested us to be at the manor then. So, I repeat. Clear your schedule.' John looked to Sherlock in mild confusion and fear.

'I- I'm going to meet your mum? Oh dear.' John gripped the edge of the kitchen counter he had been standing by.

'Relax. She isn't awful like my Father or Mycroft. She is decent and eager to meet you.' Sherlock cupped John's worried face. 'Plus, I know she will adore you as I do.'

Sherlock leaned in to peck John's forehead. John sighed before pulling Sherlock into a comforting embrace.

'What if I'm not good enough? What if she thinks I'm bad for you? What if... she says we can't be together?' John buried his face into Sherlock chest while expressing his concern. 'I just want her to like me so we can stay together.'

Sherlock hushed John while stroking his back.

'If it comforts you to know, I would chose you over my mother. She was never there for me like you are.'

'Thank you.' John still held on to Sherlock. He loved this side of Sherlock. The caring side which wasn't often shown. It was only every really seen by John. Sherlock had no one else he deemed worthy to care about.

_ a week or so later _

'Sherlock! Mycroft is sending the car over now. Do you have everything?'

'Yes, John. Relax. We will survive this. I survived it for 18 years.' Sherlock got John to smile a bit. He heaved the suitcase they elected to share into the living area by the door. He let out a sigh of triumph once he had placed the suitcase where it belonged.

Thirty minutes later John spotted a sleek black car. Instantly he knew it was the car Mycroft had sent for them.

'Come on, Sherlock. It's time to go.' John tugged on Sherlock hand. After being pulled upright Sherlock adjusted his blazer,and reached for John's familiar hand. Slowly the two trudged down stairs with luggage in tow. As they reached the car one of the black door swung open. Sherlock tossed in the suit case before clambering inside. John followed.

'So, anything I should know before we get there? Ya know... What you mum likes to be called? Is she averse to handshaking? Does she not like army-doctors? The basics.' John queried.

'Not specifically. She likes Arabella. She isn't averse to handshaking, though she prefers hugging. And stop worrying about whether she will like you or not. You're perfect and she will be able to see it. I promise.' John blushed at the complement before stuttering a thank you. The rest of the car ride was sat in comfortable silence. That was until the pulled into the manor's court yard.

'Oh my god!' John swiveled to look at Sherlock. He was flabbergasted. 'You failed you mention that your house is bigger than BUCKINGHAM PALACE!'

'Don't be silly, John. Bucking ham palace has 775 rooms. This only has 758 rooms.' Sherlock explained with a smirk.

John had never seen a house this big. He wasn't on welfare as a child, but compared to Sherlock's home he lived in a cardboard box. Suddenly John began to panic.

'Sherlock. Your mum... she isn't going to care that I am as poor as dirt, is she?'

'Oh, John. You worry too much. It will be fine. I meant it when I said you are perfect. My mother will love you know matter what financial status you are.'

'Well, that's good. One thing to cross of the list of reason she could hate me.'

Sherlock smirked. John always seemed to make the detective laugh even when he wasn't trying. Sherlock reached out to John's hand to comfort him. Clearly there was nothing he could say to ease the army-doctor's nerves.

John and Sherlock's hand remained firmly clasped together until they came up to the large doors. After Sherlock rapped on the door a couple times a short and stout butler came to answer the knocks. John marveled at the opulence of the manor. The floor seemed to be laced with flecks of gold and the ceiling stretched far above his head. The butler began to shed them of their jackets and luggage.

'Is this where you grew up, Sherlock?'

'Yes. Worst 18 years of my life.'

'I'm sorry. I wi-' A tall raven hair woman interrupted John.

'Sherlock! Darling, come here and give you mother a hug. I don't see you every day, you know?' Sherlock begrudgingly left John's side to hug his mother.

'Yes. I know.'

John watched their interactions with great curiosity. They seemed normal enough. No one had been brought to tears yet and no one had tried to kill each other. John didn't see anything too terrible about the family dynamic. So, then why did Sherlock hate this so much?

'And you must be Dr. Watson. Lovely to meet you. I hear you have been taking excellent care of my dear son.'

'Call me John, please. And yes. I do try.' John smiled at Mrs. Holmes. 'Its lovely to meet you, too, Mrs. Holmes.'

Mrs. Holmes shook the doctor hand before insisting he called her Arabella. She then guided them to a large living space. Hot tea sat on the coffee table. Mrs. Holmes picked up a cup and handed it to John. She then did the same for Sherlock.

'So, tell me. How are things between you two boys going?' Mrs. Holmes inquired. When John and Sherlock sat down John reached out to place a hand on Sherlock's knee.

'I believe we are doing fine. How are you?' John's voice was filled with faux confidence. In fact, he was the complete opposite of confident. Internally John was shaking in his boots. He worried about everything he said. He didn't want to say something wrong and aggravate Mrs. Holmes.

'I am doing quite well. Thank you, doctor.' She carefully sipped on her tea. 'Well. What are things like in London? How are the cases, Sherlock?'

'London is splendid, Mother. The cases are very pleasing. Especially when I have John to accompany me.' This made John blush earnestly.

'That's great Sherlock. I worried about you. I didn't believe you had it in you to find someone like the doctor. No offensive to you doctor. Just a bit surprising.'

'No offensive taken.'

'Good. That's wonderful.' The group carried on idle chit-chat for roughly an hour. Sherlock began to get restless. His foot was tapping against the hard tiles. His hand was drumming on his leg. He turned to John in desperation. Sherlock needed John to end this boring hellish concept called conversing. NOW.

John saw Sherlock's distress.

'Um.. Mrs. Holmes-'

'Arabella.'

'Yes. Sorry. Arabella. Would you be horribly offended if we continued this conversation tomorrow so he could show me around? It would be no good for me to get lost in this huge estate.' John gave a light hearted chuckle and squeezed Sherlock's knee.

'Oh! Of course not. Please go.' She smiled brightly and stood to exit the room. 'Goodnight.'

'Thank you. Good night.' John answered. As she left the roomed he gave a huge sigh.

'Ugh. I thought you two were going to go on all night! Some times that woman doesn't know when enough is enough!' Sherlock spouted.

'That woman, as you so fondly call her, is your mother. Give her some respect.' John stood and pulled Sherlock along with him. 'She seems quite nice. Why didn't you enjoy your time here?'

'Oh, mother was nice enough. It was Father who I resented.'

John gather Sherlock into a tight embrace. At first Sherlock was a bit surprised. Even though they had been together for a while, it was odd having someone care for him. Especially as much as John cared for him.

'Wanna talk about it?' John nudged Sherlock. Sherlock thought about it for a moment. He had tried to delete those memories and hasn't succeeded. They were painful memories and Sherlock didn't particularly want to relive them. Albeit, if he was to share his past with anyone it should be John.

'He was a very powerful man. He ran the government, much like Mycroft. My father believed that his power was to be retained at the household level. When he would come home he wasn't a dad. He was still an uptight government official.' John hugged Sherlock a bit harder. 'If we didn't "meet his standards" or misbehaved, we were punished. Capital punishment, of course.'

John's jaw went slack. He tried not to imagine a young Sherlock being beating by his own father. It was an absolutely horrifying thought. His Sherlock Holmes being hurt.

'I'm so sorry. I wish I could change it. I wish you had a happy childhood. I wish you had a different father. I'm so sorry.'

'Don't apologize. I wouldn't change a thing.'

'Why? Don't you wish you could have had a normal childhood?'

'No. If anything was different I might not have met you.'

John leaned up from Sherlock's chest. He untangled his arms from around Sherlock's waist and reached for his face. John very gently drew Sherlock's face close to his.

'Did Mr. Sherlock Holmes just say something romantic? Certainly not. I must be confused.' John gave him a sweet crooked smile. Sherlock chuckled.

'Very confused, Dr. Watson' Sherlock pulled him in for a breathe taking kiss.

...

Unbeknownst to them Mrs. Arabella Holmes had just witness this whole oddly beautiful scene. In that moment, She saw that Doctor John Watson was perfect. Just like Sherlock promised.


	6. Drafting

A/N: this is a different 'universe' than the rest of my Johnlocks. I just absolutely love the idea of John returning from the army to Sherlock.

And... IF ANYONE KNOWS ANY OTHER GOOD FICS THAT FALL UNDER THIS CRITERIA PLEASE PLEASE DIRECT ME TO THEM!

That is all. Goodbye.

* * *

May 15th, 2013. That was the day. That was the one of the best days Sherlock ever had. That was the day John came home.

...

Unfortunately when the war began so did the drafting. The army began drafting those who had already enrolled in the army previously. John was -unluckily- on that list. Sherlock remember the day John received his conscription letter. It was merely weeks before John was to leave. It was heart-breaking to imagine John having to go back and face the bitterness and the turmoil of war. It was out right god awful and unfair to do that to his poor doctor. Especially since the doctor now had something to lose.

Exactly a year ago, May 15th 2012. John had left for Afghanistan. On that day Sherlock was filled with such strong and contentious feelings. Ones he'd never felt the likes of before. Yes. Sherlock had his fair share of anger. Angry with his Dad for being abusive. Angry with his Mum for taking it. Angry at his brother for being so much like their Dad. But never, and I mean NEVER, had Sherlock been so angry as he was on May 15th 2012. The only thing that clouded his anger was his sadness.

Having to let his doctor go for a whole year was Terrible. Having to go back to 221b Baker Street alone was heart-wrenching. Having to wake up every morning knowing there wasn't a loving doctor to wake up with was utterly horrid.

The only emotion that rivaled this sadness was his fear. The fear that John would get hurt or shot, again. The fear of John dying was the worst thing Sherlock had to deal with. The fear that John could very well not return home.

That's why May 15th, 2013 was such a great day. John was coming home safe.

...

Sherlock was waiting restlessly by the luggage station. The conveyor belt began spitting out suitcases before the passengers where released. As soon as John army duffel bagged rolled out, Sherlock recognized it. With a quick pull Sherlock extracted the bag from the belt. He propped the bag up on its side and plopped quite dramatically on top of it.

After he sat down on John duffel bag, he started to see many families reuniting. Sherlock's pale eyes darted from face to face looking for his John, His doctor. He didn't see him, at first. Sherlock began to grow frantic. His eyes were peeled wide and darted all around the room.

Had something happened to John?

No. No. He was just being silly. Clearly many people were still on the plane, but Sherlock wasn't going to rest until he held John again.

Several hideous thoughts ran through Sherlock's head before he saw him. Before she saw John. A sandy blonde man stepped out into the baggage claim area. He was clearly searching for someone. His eyes scan excitedly around the room. Then, _oh then, _he saw the man he was looking for.

Sherlock.

John's face erupted with a lopsided smile. He began to run full speed toward Sherlock. His dog chain clanked angrily as he ran. Not too long after John had stepped into the luggage area Sherlock saw him. Leaving behind John's army duffel bag Sherlock started to race towards John. Although they had been apart for a year, when they saw each other they couldn't possibly stand to be alone for another second.

Lanky arms wrapped around John's body as he leapt into the detective's firm embrace. Sherlock held John in the air and kissed him. when I say I kiss I mean more along the line of ravished his face. John wound his strong arms behind Sherlock head and played with the soft curls he had missed so much.

After a few moments Sherlock's arms were weakening under the weight of John's new found muscle mass. He didn't complain, though. He'd never complain about kissing John.

Their sense of time slipped around them. They had no idea how long they had been snogging, but when they pulled away to breathe they noticed quite a few eyes focused on them. Several of John's army mates had wide eyes trained on him. John just happily sat in Sherlock arms with their foreheads pushed together. It didn't matter what others thought. John and Sherlock were perfectly content.

* * *

A/N: sorry it's a bit short.. And a bit not good. BUT DEAL WITH IT!

Sorry I yelled... Leave me a review :))))


	7. Lizard

A/N: prompted with lizard by a friend... Dear lord...

* * *

'Can we keep it? Please John. Pleeeeeeaaaaasseeee!' Sherlock looked up at John from his kneeling position with bug puppy dog eyes.

'You're joking right?' John glared down at Sherlock. Sherlock pouted. 'Oh god. You are serious, aren't you?'

'Of course, John. Is his he not the most adorable thing you've ever seen?'

'NO! Ew. God no. That- that's just disgusting! You found it by a dead body! We're not keeping that thing in our house. Period.'

'But John-' Sherlock groaned and held the animal closer to his face.

'By a dead body, Sherlock.'

'I don't see how where we found it is relevant!'

'It just does. It's nasty and dirty and NASTY!'

'I'll give it a bath!'

'You're going to give a lizard a bath? A LIZARD?'

'If it means we get to keep him, yes I will.'

'If you give a god damn lizard a bath, you can do what ever the hell you want with it.'

Lestrade and company just watched this odd seen unfurl. They were stunned at how childish both men were being. Donovan and Anderson were enraptured with how much control John had over Sherlock. It was amazing how the 6 foot 2 genius detective was begging a 5 foot 7 average doctor. They had never seen this man beg for anything. Especially something so strange as a lizard.

When John allowed Sherlock to keep the lizard Sherlock was elated. His whole face lit up with a smile. Lestrade swears to this day he heard the detective let out a small yelp of excitement. Sherlock stood to his full height still holding the small animal. He began to pet it.

'Uh- Sherlock?'

'Yes, Lestrade?'

'Nothing... Just nothing... ' Lestrade stuttered before trying to carry on with his day. It was amazingly difficult seeing as he had just watch one of the most respectable men in the world on his knees begging. It was shaping up to be an odd day. Very odd, indeed.

...

'John! I need soap!' Sherlock called from his post in the kitchen.

'Very good, Sherlock. How about you go get it?'

'If I leave the lizard in the sink it will drown itself!'

John sighed deeply and put aside his newspaper. He threw himself up and out of the chair. John stumbled off the to bathroom to get the soap. He sighed again when he realized he was getting soap for a lizard.

Oh dear. What had John done?

Not too long later John passed a bottle of soap to Sherlock. Sherlock then proceeded to dump at least half the bottle into the warm water. He also put a drop on his finger.

'John, pass me the lizard.'

'NOOOO! Nope, no thank you.'

'Come on, John. It's only a lizard!'

'Yes. Great deduction. I'm still not touching it.'

Sherlock groaned and grabbed the lizard himself. He placed the lizard in his palm and started gently lathering soap on to the body of the lizard. He smiled brightly at the animal. Next he slowly lowered the lizard into the basin. Sherlock avoided dropping its head below the water line. The lizard squirmed and writhed in the water. Sherlock quickly pulled it out and placed it on the towel by the sink.

'Look at that. Clean as a whistle.' He grinned and turned to John. 'Now, we can keep it!'

'By god. What the hell did I start?' John grumbled and stormed off. Sherlock frowned and placed the lizard in the makeshift home. It was no more than towels, food, water, and leaves placed in a cardboard box. Sherlock then trotted off to follow John.

'John?' Sherlock knocked on the door. 'John, can I come in?'

John grunted. Sherlock took it as a yes and let himself in. He slide in bed next to John. He squirmed a bit until he was firmly pressed against John and wrapped his lanky arms around his chest.

'What's wrong?' Sherlock placed a small kiss on his boyfriend's head. John merely grumbled. Sherlock smirked.

'Are you jealous... Of a lizard?' John shifted and curled deeper into himself. 'Oh, John.'

Sherlock chuckled and kiss John again. He nuzzled into john's neck. They laid in bed for a good 30 minutes before they spoke again.

'John?'

'Hmm?'

'You don't need to be jealous.'

'Mmm'

Sherlock laughed again.

'You know I love you more than a lizard right?'

'Well, good. I'd hope so.'

John felt something crawling on his leg. He twitched but otherwise ignored it. Suddenly what was crawling on his leg jumped onto his head. John eyes jolted open.

'Sherlock... What is on my head?'

'The lizard.'


	8. Mrs Watson and a puppy

A/N: I was prompted with puppy and requested to meet Mrs. Watson... Lets see if we can combine them! Yay!

There will be draaaaaama so beware. It's not a happy happy joy joy chapter :(

P.s. I'm thinking about writing a multi chapter story about Johnlock in high school... Let me know your thoughts please! Or possibly a multi chapter story that elaborates on the chapter where John returns from the war to Sherlock? PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU'D READ IT/ ENJOY IT :) thank you.

...

'Oh, John! I'm so glad you finally answered your phone! I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.' Mrs. Watson chuckled from the other end of the line. John mumbled something about how he was avoiding her under his breath.

'Sorry. Its lovely to talk to you again, Mum. Is there any particular reason you called?'

'Yes! I was reading the paper and saw an article about you and your friend. Sherlock Holmes was it? Well, anyways, I was hoping you could stop round for a visit and bring him by. I never imagined my boy would be friends with a real celebrity!'

John heart leapt into his throat.

'I- uh- I don't think that's a good plan. I could come by with out him.'

'Non-sense! I demand you bring him round! I would love to meet him. He seems like a funny bloke. Clever, too.'

'Oh, yes very clever.'

'I expect you to be here at tea time next Saturday. Love you, dear. Good-bye!'

With that Mrs. Watson hung up. John made no move to do the same. He just stood in the kitchen, staring at nothing in particular. John's eyes were peeled wide and his jaw scraped against the ground. He didn't move for what seemed like hours.

'John?' Sherlock questioned as he bounded into the house. He saw John standing in the kitchen motionless and began to worry. 'John what's wrong?'

Sherlock moved warily toward John. He wasn't sure if John was experiencing one of his war flash backs so he didn't want to make any suddenly movements. Once Sherlock got with in a foot or two from John he cautiously reached out toward him.

'John? Say something. Please, love.'

'My Mum called.'

'Yes?'

'She wants to meet you.'

'What's so horrid about that? I promise to behave.' Sherlock gave a weak smile.

'Do you know what she did to Harry when she came out?'

_Oh_. Sherlock thought. _John's mother was against same-sex couples. _

He scolded himself for not realizing earlier. Although, what would it have changed? He'd still love John. John finally lowered he phone from his ear and dropped it into his pocket.

'Sherlock, I can't lose my Mum. I already lost my Dad and Harry. She is all I have left.' Sherlock gently hushed him and pulled him into a comforting embrace.

'It will be fine. She doesn't have to know we are a couple, right? I'm sure we can avoid touching each other for a few hours.'

'No, that's not what I want. I want her to know. I want her to accept us. I want her to be happy for us.' John now slouched into the hug and began to silently cry.

'John, that's not going to happen. If there was a way to make it happen, then I would make it happen. There just isn't.' Sherlock started to stroke John's back before continuing. 'Now, you have to ask yourself something. Is it more important that she knows about us or that she remains in your life?'

...

'John! Oh it's wonderful you made it here safely. I was worried. I always worry. I guess that's what being a mother means!' Mrs. Watson laugh cheerily.

'Im quite alright, Mum. Nice seeing you again.' John went hug his mother. 'This is Sherlock.'

'Oh! Lovely. Lovely.' She clasped her hands and turned toward Sherlock. 'Ive read bout you in the papers! You and my John are quite the team! Always catching those dreaded criminals. I once was robbed. Never found the man who did it. Do you think-'

'Mum, please, not now. That happen ages ago.' John interrupted.

'Yes, sorry. I have the kettle on already. If you follow me into the kitchen we can sit and chat over a nice cuppa.'

The two men follow Mrs. Watson into the kitchen. When they turned the corner they were met with a huge array of tea cakes an biscuits. Sherlock plucked up a Jammie dodger before sitting down.

'So, are you boys on any cases now?'

'Yes, Mrs. Watson. By the way these Jammie dodgers are lovely!' John was stunned at how refined and how sweet Sherlock was being right now. It was very strange indeed.

'Oh, John. Your friend here is extraordinarily well mannered. Why aren't all your mates like him. So you remember that Morstan boy? Him and his sister were awful. I don't know what you saw in her. Honestly, John.'

'Mum, please. He was a good friend. There's no reason to be rude about it.' John thanked her as she handed him a cup of tea. This terribly boring and tedious chatter went on for hours. Once you got Mrs. Watson started she could talk for days. Soon evening rolled around.

'John, would you look at them time! I can't have you boys going out so late. I insist you stay the night.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Watson, but I insure you John and I will return home safely. There's no need for us to stay.' Sherlock knew staying the night could end badly for John. He didn't think either of them could last much longer with out Mrs. Watson finding out about their relationship.

'It's raining, too. That finalizes it. You are staying the night. I will make a wonderful eggs benedict for breakfast tomorrow!' She smiled brightly. She was oblivious to the impending doom.

'Although...' She furrowed her eyebrows. 'You will have to share a room. I had Harry's room turned into a room for the new puppy.'

John and Sherlock both were wide eyed. They turned to look at each other in shock. This sleeping arrangement could be either very good or very bad. John was betting on the ladder. Mrs. Watson just chuckled.

'Ill bring up some extra blankets and pillows. One could sleep on the floor I suppose.'

'That'd be nice.' John voiced cracked from his nerves. His throat caught on the last word.

'You boys should meet the puppy. I named him Gladstone, after my father.' She turned to look at Sherlock. 'He was an army man much like John here.'

'Ah. He must have been very brave.' Sherlock crooned. He would not admit it, but he had a weakness for John service. When anyone mentioned it his brain seemed to stop working properly. Mrs. Watson gave them an odd look. John blushed.

'Well, yes. Very brave.' Mrs. Watson moved to clean up the kitchen and John assisted her. Once the kitchen was restored to it firmly glory the boys left to retire to bed.

'What the hell was that?' John slapped Sherlock across the arm.

'What was what?' Sherlock yelped. John leaned in and whispered. He most certainly didn't need his mother hearing them bicker like an old married couple.

'You practically buggered me with your eyes when she was talking about being brave.'

'Well-' Sherlock tried to counter John's remark, but realized he was right. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to.'

'It's fine. At least we will leave tomorrow morning.' John sighed before stripping down to his briefs. He wore the reds ones, of course.

...

Sherlock awoke in a tangle of limbs. He didn't quite remember falling asleep like this. He had no complaints, though.

'John?' Sherlock gently kissed him awake. 'Im going downstairs. You stay here and sleep a little while longer. It might be a little suspicious if we walk down together.'

'Mmhm.' John curled up tighter around Sherlock. John is always only semi-conscious when he first wakes up. He can't achieve a fully functioning brain till after his morning cuppa.

Sherlock untangled himself and trotted downstairs. Out of respect for Mrs. Watson his got dressed first. When he arrived at the kitchen he was overwhelmed with the wonderful smell of eggs benedict and bacon. Sherlock smiled.

'Good morning, dear.'

'Morning, Mrs. Watson.'

'The foods just about ready. Figures John is still asleep. He always loved sleeping in.'

'He still does.' Sherlock laughed.

'Wait. You boys live together? I thought you just worked together.' Sherlock quickly tried to cover for his mistake.

'Oh, yes. London is very expensive. We couldn't afford to live alone. No worries, though. It's just friendly.'

'Good. I was worried I was going to have a repeat of Harry.' Mrs. Watson snarled at the idea. 'Too bad you aren't a woman. You have a very good personality.'

Mrs. Watson chuckled at her own joke and Sherlock nearly threw up. He swallowed thickly and grabbed a cup of tea. As he went to go sit down he barely avoided tripping over the dog.

'Oh god!' He yelped and jumped over the dog. Gladstone just remained still. Perfectly content to stand in the middle of the kitchen.

'Sorry about that. Gladstone like attention. I can't blame him because everyone does.' Sherlock nodded and leaned against the counter. He gave up the idea of sitting. He didn't need another encounter with that dog.

Sherlock sipped on his tea and just finished it when John finally ambled in.

'Good morning, John' Sherlock and Mrs. Watson said in unison.

'Morning.' John grumbled. His eyes were at half mast and his brain functionality was hindered with sleep. He began to shuffle toward the smell of tea when his foot hit the dog. He began tumbling toward the ground when strong lanky arms stopped him.

John's head was swirling. His head was still addled with grogginess and sleep. The fall didn't help. He leaned up to thank Sherlock and place a firm kiss on his lips.

'Thanks, love. Damn puppy.' John strolled off toward the kettle. He still hasn't register what happened.

'Well, that was friendly.' Mrs Watson chirped. Sherlock blushed furiously and John suddenly realized what he had done.

'Mum-' John began to explain when Mrs. Watson cut him off.

'No, John. I understand.' She sighed and frowned deeply. 'I had just hoped I would have one normal child. You were supposed to be the good kid, John. Please tell where I went wrong when I was raising you two. I must have been an awful mother to raise two kids who are so severely messed up. Please tell me, John. What did I do wrong?'

'Mrs. Watson, you did not do anything wrong when raising John. He is nothing short of perfect. For that I thank you, but where you did go wrong is believing that its not right for John to have found love in the non-traditional form. Your children are not the 'severely messed up' ones, Mrs. Watson.' John looked up at Sherlock with huge watery eyes. He had never heard Sherlock say anything so kind.

'What are you implying, Mr. Holmes.'

'I think you already know.'

'Its not my fault John is a disappointment!'

'John is not a disappointment! He is the most wonderful, caring, brave, kind, clever, humane, irreplaceable man I have ever met. You should be proud!' Sherlock was nearly nose to nose with this woman when he finished. John was stunned. He couldn't believe that the sociopathic emotionless Sherlock had just said that. Sherlock had no idea how perfect he just was. In John's eyes, at least.

'I love you.' John tore Sherlock's face away from his Mum's and kissed him. Hard. They had a proper snogging in the kitchen. They had no idea how long they had been going at it and even forgot about Mrs. Watson. That was until she said something.

'Leave. GET OUT!'

...

'Im sorry.'

'Don't ever apologize for that. It was perfect, Sherlock. You are amazing.'

'Hardly. It's my fault this happened. If it wasn't for me I'm sure you and your mum would be on good terms.' Sherlock bowed his head.

'Its not your fault. If we have to blame anyone, let's blame the puppy.' John smiled.

'The puppy?'

'He's the reason I fell into your arms.'

'Damn puppy.'


	9. Always

'Just because you have the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have!' Donovan screeched.

'Did you just tried to insult me... By using Harry Potter?' Sherlock scowled. 'You can't even come up with your own insult?'

Donovan went red in embarrassment. She hadn't a clue that the genius detective had ever seen Harry Potter. She figured his pop culture knowledge dropped off somewhere when King Charles the first still had a head.

'It doesn't matter who said it first! It's still true!'

'Stop trying to insult me. You'll only kill the few brain cells you have left, Donovan.'

Donovan gasped and stuttered. She opened her mouth a few more times and quickly closed it. When she finally gave up she stormed off. Sherlock smirked, adjusted his blazer, and turned back to his work.

He quickly deduced the who, what, where, when, and why of the crime. Sherlock grabbed John coat and hauled him off. John fell into step with Sherlock and the exited the building.

'A bit boring, really. I was hoping it would be harder.' Sherlock snorted. John leaned out into the street to hail a cab.

'Maybe next time it will be.' John clambered into the cab with Sherlock close behind.

...

'Doesn't it bother you?' John questioned.

'What?'

'Them bullying you. Does it bother you?'

'Not really. My intelligence intimidates them and they express their fear through insults. It used to bother me when I was much younger.'

'Oh.' John left it there. He was exactly sure how to respond to that. He knew Sherlock had a hard time as a child, but never fully understood what had happened. 'So... Would you like to have a crap telly night? Maybe order some Chinese?'

'That sounds lovely.' Sherlock really appreciates that John knows when to end a conversation. John knows just how far to push with out it being too much. It was something Sherlock never thanked him for. If Sherlock ever thanked John he'd be acknowledging the fact it actually happened.

...

'What do you want to watch?' John asked Sherlock as he bent over the small box of DVDs. 'We have The Avengers, some Dr. Who, James Bond, and a whole bunch of other crap.'

'I don't care either way. What ever pleases you.'

'Ive got Harry Potter. That might be fitting for the night.' Sherlock chuckled and gave John a genuine smile. John loved those. He never saw them often, but it was always a good day when he did.

'Well, I guess it couldn't hurt.' With that John popped the DVD into the player and jumped onto the couch with Sherlock. He squirmed around a bit before getting comfortable. John's legs were pulled up on top of Sherlock's lap and his head placed firmly in the crook of Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock wound an arm around John's back and let his head fall onto John's. It was a surprisingly domestic situation and Sherlock loved every second of it.

They made their way through 4 of the movies before John began to doze. At the end of the fifth movie John had passed out in Sherlock's arms. As the credits rolled Sherlock carried John into the bedroom bridal style. John subconsciously nuzzled closer to Sherlock. Sherlock smiled and kissed his head.

'You know. They really should be jealous of you talents.' John mumbled.

'Oh? And why's that?'

'Because wit beyond measure is a man's greatest treasure.' Sherlock laughed loudly. Leave it to his John to compliment him the way Donovan insulted him. Again, that was one of those things he would never thank John for, but would always be grateful. Always.

...author'snote...

A/n: I figured I'd give a sweet cute short fic to help balance out how long and depressing and mean the last chapter was. i had a friend who prompted with Harry Potter.

I love prompts soooo prompt away!


	10. Hypothetically speaking

**Prompt: astronomy**

**I broke down and did teenlock... NO SHAME! **

* * *

The seconds ticked by slowly. Very slowly. John needed third period to be over. He couldn't wait until fourth period. It wasn't that he really enjoyed astronomy, it was who he was in the class with. Forth period was his only class with Sherlock this year.

John tore out of the classroom as soon as the bell rang. He dashed toward his next class. When he arrived he nearly ran into Sherlock, but luckily avoided it.

'Hey!' John grinned widely.

'Hello, John.' Sherlock turned into the classroom. 'You got here quickly, seeing as your class is about the farthest from here.'

'Yeah, well, maybe I like astronomy.'

'No you don't. No one does. It's a useless class.' John giggled.

'I 'spose so.' John took his seat next to Sherlock and class began.

_Come over this afternoon_? Sherlock scrawled on a piece of scrap paper and passed it to John.

_Sure... It's not like I have anything better to do_ John passed the note back to Sherlock.

_Mycroft let me borrow the car again. Meet me by the bench?_

_By borrow do you mean you stole it?_

_Yes._

_Sadly, I'm not surprised. See ya by the bench._ John slipped the note back to Sherlock as the bell for the end of the forth period rang.

...

The rest of the day dragged on for the two. Sherlock saw school as extraordinarily tedious and John was just excited to go to Sherlock's house later. Finally, the end of the day rolled around and Sherlock ambled out toward the bench. John already sat there waiting.

'Ready to go?' Sherlock questioned.

'Oh god yes.'

The two boys sped down Baker Street and turned into Sherlock's driveway. When the reached Sherlock's room backpacks were tossed across the bed and homework strewn about. They worked in comfortable silence. Occasionally one boy would ask a question about the homework, but other than that nothing. Well, almost nothing.

'Did you understand to astronomy homework?' John asked.

'Its endearing that you think I pay attention to that class.' John blushed heavily.

'Yeah, I guess it's pretty useless information.'

'Thats not the only reason I don't pay attention...' Sherlock mumbled under his breath. John's heart leapt into his throat. He couldn't be sure he had actually heard Sherlock right, so he just ignored the comment.

'John?'

'Yeah?'

'Can I ask you a hypothetical question?'

'Uh- sure. I don't see why not.' John muttered.

'Ok. Well, you see how all the stars are so far away? What if -hypothetically speaking- there was a boy who want to be with the other stars? He wanted to be far far away, but he was too different to be with them. They also weren't so kind as to come close to him. Well, one day the boy realized he had his own star -the sun- and to him that star shined brighter than any other and he was happy with that star for a while. What if that boy wanted to get closer to his sun, but he was afraid he'd be burned if he tried?'

'Um...' John was a bit confused what Sherlock was asking. 'I guess - hypothetically speaking- if he wanted to be closer to the sun so badly he'd find a way. If he truly wanted it I think he would probably conquer his fear of being burned and try anyways.'

'Thanks.' Sherlock said quietly. 'John?'

'Yeah?'

'Hypothetically speaking- what if I was the boy?'

Now John was severely confused. What was Sherlock trying to say? John didn't dare to hope that he was the sun Sherlock spoke about. No, he wouldn't even dwell on that thought for more than a few seconds.

'Uh- then you'd probably be clever enough to find a way to reach the sun, or any star you wanted, with out getting hurt. You're above emotions anyway. You probably wouldn't feel the pain.' John laugh weakly.

'Everyone thinks that, but I'm not really. I do have emotions.'

'Oh?'

'John, since we are still speaking in hypothetical terms, what would you do if you were the sun?'

John eyes shot wide and his pupil completely enveloped his irises. His pulse jumped up to a speed twice what it was before. Could Sherlock actually be saying what he thought he was? John began to sweat and tremble.

'I would.. I would.. I'd try not to hurt you? I would -um- like it if you came closer. I think.' John looked up at Sherlock. Sherlock had his usual steely gaze. Free of all of those obnoxious emotions. 'Hypothetically speaking.' John covered quickly.

'Hypothetically, if i were to kiss you... What would you do?'

'Wish it wasn't hypothetical?' John figured now was as good as anytime to let his friend know that he saw him as more than a friend. He bowed his head and avoided Sherlock's critical glare. John locked his eyes on the textbook in front of him and didn't notice Sherlock stand up. Sherlock reared up close to John. He kneeled beside the sandy haired boy and clasped John's chin.

Before John really knew what was happening his fingers were firmly wrapped in Sherlock's curly hair. He gently pushed Sherlock closer to his mouth. Their lips brushed. Sherlock's cool smooth lips and John's chapped hot ones locked together roughly. They slipped into each other so perfectly.

The pressure started to increase. John pinned Sherlock against the creamy colored carpet. He threw a leg over and straddle his friend? His boyfriend? His lover? John didn't know at this point and he was perfectly fine with that.

As he slowly pulled back they both gasped for air.

'So... What do we do know?' John asked sheepishly.

'Try not to get burned?'


	11. Fahr's disease

**So I got three prompts... This is my attempt at incorporating them all together :) **

**Prompts: Banana, heart, and I DONT BLOODY GET WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS!**

* * *

Dermatitis Herpetiformis. Melkersson-Rosenthal Syndrome. Togaviridae Infections. Behcet Syndrome.

All these diseases were swimming around in John's head. His continuing education test was tomorrow and John was nervous as hell. If he didn't pass he would lose his job. He couldn't lose his job. It was the only steady source of income for the boys of 221b Baker Street.

John had been so happy when he graduated uni. He thought that was the end of up-all-night-study-periods and ridiculously hard tests, but no such luck. John had already tried to create his own mind palace for the new terms, but failed. Miserably. He just didn't understand how Sherlock could remember anything and everything. Maybe if he just asked Sherlock...

'Love, could you help me?'

'What is it?' Sherlock peered over John's shoulder at the thick textbook.

'Familial Idiopathic Basal Ganglia Calcifications. How the hell am I supposed to remember that?'

'Oh, that's Fahr's Disease. It's a neurological disorder characterized by the presence of abnormal calcium deposits. Very bad stuff mind you. Deadly.'

'Yes, of course. EVERYONE knows about Fahr's disease.' John grumbled.

'You get snappy when you are frustrated, dearest.' Sherlock smirked at John.

'I think I have a right. This test is ridiculous! Complete bollocks!'

'You'll do fine.'

'I'm going to fail. I am. I truly am. I DONT BLOODY GET WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS!' John shouted as he chucked the book to the other end of the room.

'Calm down, love. It'll be fine. There's no need to get worked up. You are the smartest guy I know. You will pass this. I promise.' Sherlock crouched in front of John. He gently placed his hands on John's knees.

John just grunted.

'How about I help you study?' Sherlock stood to retrieve the banged up book. 'Ok. Well, I'll state some symptoms and you diagnose me.'

'Fine.'

'Shall we start?' John nodded. 'I have muscle cramps, my heartbeat is irregular, and I take diuretics for my high-blood pressure.'

'Easy. You have low potassium.'

'And what should I do about it?'

'Get a blood sample to test you potassium level, have an EKG, and eat a god damned banana.' John scoffed. Clearly he was still snappy.

'There's something I'd rather eat than a banana.' Sherlock mumbled under his breath.

'What?' John's mouth went dry.

'Nothing. Nothing.' Sherlock cleared his throat. 'Moving on! I am dizzy, experiencing shortness of breath, and I feel a though my heart is fluttering.'

'Heart palpitation. Come on, Sherlock. I need the ones I don't know.'

'Wrong.'

'Wrong?'

'Yes, wrong.'

'How am I wrong?' John raised his voice.

'I am not experiencing heart palpitations, John.'

'Well, then enlightening me as to what is wrong with you?'

Sherlock put down the text book and leaned in. His face was now mere centimeters from John's face. John's heart began to flutter and for a second he worried he was experiencing heart palpitations.

That's stupid, John. He thought to himself. You are clearly not having heart palpitations.

'I wouldn't say being in love is anything wrong. Would you?'

'No. No, never.' John stumbled over his words. Sherlock had him pressed firmly against the back of his chair. They weren't touching, but Sherlock was very closely hovering over him. 'Nothing wrong with love.'

'Good. I was hoping so.'

Needless to say they got a bit distracted from studying. John wasn't too concerned, though. He was tired of studying anyway and Sherlock was tired of John studying. It was a win-win situation.


	12. And Ill tell you I love you

Sorry I couldn't post yesterday.. I lost Internet connection and I'm not posting from the library! Yay!

* * *

If Sherlock Holmes was a color, he'd be green. You would never think it, but the sociopathic detective was very jealous. Sherlock had little faith that John could ever truly love him. He was, after all, a freak. Every time he saw a bright eyed girl looking at John he knew, he just knew, John would rather be holding her hand. Anytime a woman looked fondly at John -which was often- Sherlock had a visit from the green eyed monster. He wasn't proud of it, but accepted it.

'What's wrong?' John asked noticing Sherlock's body stiffening.

'Nothing.'

'Don't give me that, love. I know when something is wrong.'

'I said nothing.'

'If you don't want to talk about it, then just say it.'

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Okay.'

They had been sharing a peaceful dinner at Angelo's after catching a particularly elusive criminal. Angelo brought over his finest wine and a candle for the couple. John spoke amicably of Sherlock's work on the case while chewing on risotto and Sherlock smiled. It was going well until a blond haired blue eyed young girl started to eye John. She leaned across the table letting her chest fall out of the tight blue dress she was wearing.

And then the green eyed monster came.

Sherlock glared at the woman. He was not only impressed by her overtness, but also her lack of insight. Could she not see they were clearly out happily together on a date? Through the rest of the dinner Sherlock kept a firm eye on the woman. She seemed only to grow more desperate for John's attention.

That was it. Sherlock was going to have to show this unbearable woman who John belonged to. He placed an elbow on the table and rest his head in his hand. His face growing ever closer to John's.

'Get your elbow off the table, Sherlock.' John tapped his arm with a fork. Sherlock groaned, but relented.

His next attack was more direct. He reached a long slender hand towards John's.

'I need my hand to eat, love. Maybe later?' Sherlock threw himself against the back of the chair and rolled his eyes. John wasn't making this easy. Instead of over the table gestures he might first have to deploy under the table gestures to show John his intent.

With a snug pop he peeled off his high end shoes. Slowly he inched his foot forward until it hit John's ankle.

John eyes blew wide and he dropped his fork. He shuddered and coughed a bit before picking up his fork. John returned to his food with a slight red hue stuck on his face.

'Uhm- not that I'm not enjoying this, because I am, I just think this is best saved for another location?' John stuttered over his words. He hadn't eaten in a little while because of the case and was desperate to get some food in.

The foot slide higher. John yelped.

The woman in the tight blue dress gave John an odd look. Sherlock smirked.

Must be getting my point across then. Sherlock thought.

'Sherlock, please. Just let me finish my dinner and we can do what ever you want.' Now Sherlock leaned in. His face was mere centimeters from John. There was no denying they were here together now. From the corner of his eye he saw the woman back down.

'What ever I want? John, that's a big promise. Are you sure you're up to it?'

'Oh god yes.' Sherlock gave him a genuine smile and fell back against his chair.

A few hours later John and Sherlock laid in bed. John absentmindedly traced shapes on to Sherlock's chest.

'Was what happened at Angelo's about the girl who was staring at me?' John asked quietly. He didn't want to cause any issues, but he also wanted to make sure Sherlock understood his devotion to the man.

'So you did notice her?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't do anything about it.'

'What did you expect? For me to walk over to the girl and say "Hello. I appreciate the interest, but I'm here on a date with my gay lover. Would you be so kind as to not bugger me with your eyes? Thank you." That would not have gone over well.'

All he got from Sherlock was silence.

'You know I love you right? I love you, and not some blond girl who has no self respect. You, Sherlock.'

'I try to remember that, but I get jealous. I can't help it. I just-' Sherlock dropped off at the end.

'If it happens again squeeze my hand and I'll tell you that I love you.'

'Anywhere?'

'Of course. Anywhere.' John confirmed.

They fell into a gratifying slumber. Both the boys had a small smile plastered on their face while they slept. John was smiling because Sherlock finally understood how much he cared. Sherlock was pleased because for the first time since their relationship began he had complete and utter faith that John did whole heartedly love him. Him and no one else.


	13. Do I get to call you ginger?

'Sherlock! I'm home!' John called from the staircase in 221b Baker Street. He trudged up the last steps wearily. It had been a long day at the surgery and he just needed to get home to his lunatic detective. John had plans to relax and watch telly. Maybe update his blog, but when did John's plans follow through?

'Sher-' John opened the door to his flat and stopped dead in his track. There stood Sherlock gently playing with his hair and staring in the mirror. Curly tufts flew out of all ends of his head, but that's not what was alarming. His normally silky raven locks were gone. They were replaced with a bright ginger color.

'Oh, hello. Welcome home, John.' Sherlock turned back toward the mirror. He continued to play with his hair. 'Im not sure I like it.'

'What the hell?'

'It was necessary for a case.'

'And you didn't think to clue me in on your plans?'

'No. I would have, but I knew you'd disagree with my decision. You are quite smitten with my normal hair.'

'Damn right I'd disagree. Your perfect the way you are. Why would you ever change it?' John finally calmed down from the initial shock and ambled over to Sherlock. He stuck his calloused hands into Sherlock's loudly tinted hair and dragged it out. He repeated this motion many times causing the hair to fray out in every which way. Sherlock looked very similar to a mad scientist.

'I already said it was for a case.'

'Oh. I guess I could get used to it. Although, I do prefer black.'

'I can always die it back or simply shave it.'

'No!' John shouted. His subconsciously gripped tighter at Sherlock's hair. 'Id rather you kept it than shaved it.'

Sherlock gave a soft chuckle and smiled.

'Im glad you like it.'

'Like being the operative word.' John's hand began to more or less massage the freshly died scalp. His fingers carded through the strange curls. John marveled at the new style and Sherlock marveled at him. Sherlock's eye were firmly locked of John's face. He noted a small glint of curiosity and disappointment behind John's eyes.

'You must have a question as to what part of the case caused me to be so rash.'

'Not particularly. I'm used to your antics by now, sadly.'

'Yes, and that's why I love you.' Sherlock placed a soft hand on John's check and gently stroked. John gave Sherlock the biggest lop-sided grin he could muster. He had all but forgotten the bad day at work.

'Mmm. Yeah, that's one reason.' John pulled on the florescent orange hair. Instinctually, Sherlock leaned in with the pull. They shared a chaste kiss.

'I do have another question, though. Not about the case.'

'Really? Enlighten me.'

'Does this mean I get to call you ginger until you die it back?' Sherlock smirked and planted another light press of lips to John's forehead.

'What makes you so sure I'm going to die it back?'

A/N: sorry about all the technical errors in the previous one. I know it no real excuse, but it was done late at night and I had no chance to look over it. We hit a bit of a storm where I live and it knocked out my cable. I have to go to the library and post from there. Ugh.

Well I hope this is a bit better. Plus I went back and fixed all the major mistakes in the previous one. Thanks for dealing with me :)


	14. No word tricks

Caring. A chemical defect often found in the losing side.

Love. An undeniable strength that now resided in a small unassuming flat on Baker Street. 221b Baker Street, to be exact. To be more exact, in John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

Despite popular belief, when Sherlock and John had finally admitted that they were truly mad for each other it didn't lead to an emotional explosion of love and rough sex. Not at all. It was a hesitant moment of weakness for both of them. They broke down all their walls and presented themselves in a sweet moment on vulnerability.

* * *

Sherlock stood in the doorway and fidgeted. He had been watching John faff about the flat getting ready for another mundane date. Just one more faceless nameless girl to try to distract him from the crazy detective, but Sherlock didn't see it that way. Every time John went on a date he took it as a personal blow. As though the world was just showing him all the woman John prefers over him. Why couldn't he be the one John preferred? Why couldn't he be the one John came home late with? Why?

'Ill be home late tonight, Sherlock' John sighed. 'Don't stay up for me. If you're even planning on sleeping.'

'John, wait. I don't want you to go.' Sherlock bit his tongue. It was just too hard to see John scamper off with some one else anymore. Sherlock wanted John to scamper off with him. John turned away from the door to face Sherlock.

'What for? We don't have a case.'

'Yes. I know.'

'Im not skipping on my date to entertain you.'

'Yes. I know.'

'So why don't you want me to go?'

'Because you shouldn't go on a date with her.'

'What the hell, Sherlock? I can date who I please. The world doesn't revolve around you! You don't dictate who I choose to see.' John huffed. Normally he wasn't so easily hot-tempered, but he was tired of Sherlock antics. Every time he left to go on a date to forget the sociopath, Sherlock showed up and ruined it. The worst part was he wasn't upset with Sherlock for ruining it. John was mad that he was excited -even elated- when Sherlock came swooping in to end his petty date.

'No, John. I don't mean that I disapprove of her. Well, actually I do, but not for the reason you believe.' Sherlock absentmindedly played with his cuffs.

'Oh, really? So, go on. Tell me I'm wrong.'

'John, please. Try to understand. I'm not doing this to be cruel or prove my intelligence.'

'Well, that's what it seems like.'

'Im sorry it seems that way. Really, I promise, that was not my intention.' John's jaw hit the floor. Had Sherlock really apologized? No, it couldn't be. Sherlock never apologized.

'Sherlock, what are you getting at?' John asked more gently. He dropped his hands from their perch on his hips. John eased his stance and tried to not give off an imposing air.

'John, I don't want you to go out with her because I want you to being going on that date with me.' Sherlock bowed his head. 'I understand if you would like to leave. Spare me the "I don't want to ruin our friendship speech" and just go. I don't need your comforting and caring attitude now. That will only hurt more.'

John's breathing became labored. His heart thumped loudly in his head. The noise drowned out any other in the room and caused his brain to spin. John began to vibrate with happiness, relief, joy, and any other emotion you could name. Since the second he had met this crazy man John had dreamed of this moment. The moment this delusional sociopathic detective would choose to like him. It was an unbelievably hopeful sensation. It was better than John had thought it could have been.

'Hurt more?' It was the only John could manage to say. 'I already hurt you?'

'No! No, of course not. John, you must understand that you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. It's my fault that I ruined it with my sentiment. Please forgive me. I just- I needed-' Sherlock sighed and gave up explaining.

'You really mean that?'

'Absolutely. With out a doubt. John, I have never cared for anyone, but you. Somehow you are different. I don't know how. You just are. You aren't dull or boring or stupid or frankly uninteresting like everyone else is. John, you are so different and so special. More so than I thought ever possible.'

'Please tell me you are not lying.' John pleaded. He was in such a state of disbelief. John was merely waiting to be shaken awake.

'I have no reason to lie.'

'No, Sherlock. No word tricks or anything like that. Just straight up tell me. Are you lying?'

'No.'

And silence descended. The weight of the situation hung in the room. John was too overwhelmed to actually say anything and Sherlock was too scared he had already said more than he should have. In reality, he had said just enough. He said just enough to prove to John this wasn't a joke or an experiment. No. This was real. Tangible. Something that can be molded into greatness.

John carefully began to put on his jacket and collect his wallet. John quickly shed the keys from the home on the wall before shoving them deep in his pocket. Sherlock looked crestfallen. He was expecting rejection. But it still hurts.

Suddenly, Sherlock felt the heavy fabric of his wool coat. He looked up at John, who then placed his purple-grey scarf on top.

'I think Angelo's is appropriate, but that could be seen as too sentimental.' Now it was Sherlock's turn to be astounded. His lips parted a minuscule amount and his eyes peeled wide.

'What?'

'Our first date. If you'd still like to go.'

'Angelo's is perfect.' Sherlock smiled. A wonderful, luminescent smile. One that didn't just light up your face, but your eyes and your skin and your whole being.

Three hours later they kiss for the first time.

Two weeks later they tell people they're together for the first time.

One month later they well... You know... For the first time.

Three months later they go to a family party together for the first time.

Six months later they go on a private holiday for the first time.

Seven months later they both contemplate the idea of truly loving the other man for the first time.

Ten months later they admit that they really do love each other -in their minds at least- for the first time.

Here we are. Exactly one year after that sublime day. That's when something truly lovely and wondrous happens.

'I love you.'

* * *

A/N: yes.. I posted two today... I'm making up for the extreme lack of posting.

The Internet is still down and I'm still going to the library to post but the library is closed on Sundays and Monday is Memorial Day. :p

Ugh. American holidays!

The second I get Internet back I promise to give a steady update again.

This ones a bit longer, but my drabbles have been getting a bit short and a bit silly. We needed a serious one :) hoped you liked it!


	15. Addiction

In a relationship one must always understand your partner. You must know all the crazy little things they do and love each and every one.

'John. Before we continue I must clarify somethings.' John looked up from his paper and eyed Sherlock.

'Continue what?'

'This relationship.' Now John was terrified. He didn't know what to expect. Sherlock and John never spoke about the relationship. They understood each other's boundaries and respected them. Neither felt the need to really discuss what their relationship was.

'I wasn't aware there is anything that needs clearing. I'm pretty happy with how it is.'

'Oh, yes. John, of course. I'm absolutely content with the way it is.'

'What? So then what are we clarifying?' John knit his eyebrows in confusion and Sherlock sighed. It was the you're-almost-at-the-level-of-Anderson-stupid sigh.

'Much like how being flat mates work, you must fully detail all your faults and short comings to the other. I don't want us to get chest deep then you find something you hate about me. I'd rather you leave when I'm ankle deep.'

'I doubt you can get much worse. You keep severed heads in the fridge yet here I am. So what is it, Sherlock? What's you baggage?'

'Baggage?'

'Yeah. The secret about yourself you try to hid from potential lovers so they don't run off.'

Sherlock just gave him a blank look. John dismissed the concept and urged Sherlock along. He was very interested in Sherlock's baggage. I mean, John already knew much more than anyone else. He knew about the druggie period. He knew about Sherlock's quite morbid job and his love for it. He knew about the skull on the mantel. He knew about how easily Sherlock got bored and petulant. He knew a lot about this man and was curious to see what Sherlock thought could possibly make John want out.

'Oh. I see.' Sherlock said cautiously. 'There's just a couple things I believe you ought to know.'

'Alright. I understand, so spit it out.'

'Well, I have a highly addictive personality. A small taste of something could cause me to have an animalistic need for it.'

'Hmm.' John winked. 'I can see that being fun. That's not baggage, that's a gift to me.'

'John, please. I'm speaking seriously. I can be very territorial and needy. I will be addicted to you, so to speak. I will need your attention and all other parts that entail in a relationship.'

'I like to be needed.'

'But do you like to be craved? To be something someone else is desperate for? To be an addiction?' John ruminated on this for a bit. He knew he enjoyed the caring boyfriend persona, but he didn't know how far that pleasure extended.

After a few minutes of thinking about it, John finally spoke.

'I believe I would not only like it, but love it. I love the entire idea of being an addiction, as long as I'm not harmful. It sounds wonderful to be so -loved- like that.' John was hesitant. There was much trepidation over that word since it wasn't often used to describe their feelings.

'You must be sure, John. It would kill me to be so attached to you and then have you pull out.' Sherlock gave him a firm look. Instantly John knew he was serious. This wasn't a silly game with him.

'You survived pulling away from your drug addiction.'

'You are much more strong than drugs, John.'

Although, it seemed to be such a trivial sentence John knew it wasn't. To John that meant everything. As soon as he heard Sherlock say that he knew. He just knew it would all be alright.

'I promise not to pull out when we are chest deep if you promise the same. Unless, of course, you completely change and become some sort of axe murder. Can't have that.'

They shared a light-hearted chuckle.

'Thank you.' John was shocked by this. Why did Sherlock feel the need to thank him? It wasn't as though Sherlock was the only one benefitting from this relationship.

'There's nothing to thank me for.' John mumbled and pulled the paper back up to cover his rapidly reddening face. Suddenly, the paper shook from a rush of wind. It was quickly knocked from his hand and replaced with a fist full of raven curls.

As they pulled apart John smiled. He slowly opened his eyes to see the gorgeous detective he got to call his own.

'There is everything to thank you for.'

* * *

GUISE! IT'S CONFIRMED THAT AMANDA ABBINGTON IS CASTED AS MARY... AND THERE ARE PICTURES OF HER IN A WEDDING GOWN! GUISEEEEEE MY OTP IS FALLING APART! Guissseeeeeeeee help me.


	16. Lets dance to joy division

Sherlock had been off at the yard all day and was excited to be coming home earlier than expected. He had left a groggy John Watson alone at the flat this morning. The second he was relieved from the yard Sherlock dashed out to a cab, eager to return to his groggy John Watson.

He leapt from the cab and paid the man before heading up. As he opened the door he heard some weird music playing. It was an odd upbeat indie song. He didn't pin John as one to listen to that kind of music.

'John?' Sherlock called as he ascended the stairs. He didn't receive a response. The music became much louder as he climb closer to his flat. Now the jumbled up words became clearer.

_I'm back in Liverpool and everything seems the same_  
_But I worked some out last night that changed this little boys brain_  
_A small piece of advice that took 22 year in the make..._

'John?' Sherlock tried again as he pushed open the door that lead into their sitting room. When he stepped inside his jaw hit the floor.

Before Sherlock stood John Watson in nothing but red pants and an undershirt. He was dancing around the room, if you could consider it dancing. John was jumping around the room and singing along to the weird music playing. He fists were thrown in the air and his hip were thrusting side to side in beat with the music.

_Please learn from my mistake, please learn from my mistake_  
_Lets dance to joy division and celebrate the irony_  
_Everything is going wrong, but were so happy_  
_Lets dance to joy division and raise our glass to the ceiling_  
_Cause this could all go so wrong but were so happy_  
_Yeah we're so happy_

Then John saw him. John immediately stopped what he was doing and went bright red. At this point, a tomato would be jealous of his color.

'Hey. You're home early. That's- that's nice.' John stuttered and scratched the back of his head. He shuffled his feet and bowed his head.

'Yeah. Yeah. I didn't call because I wanted to surprise you.' Sherlock explained.

'Well, you did a damn good job.'

'Yeah.'

Then there was an awkward silence. Neither knew what to say so they just stood there staring at each other. This lasted for a minute or so. After that, both John and Sherlock started laughing hysterically.

'I enjoyed your dancing.' Sherlock managed to get out.

'Thanks.' John smiled and tears from laughing so hard prickled his eyes.

'And your singing.'

'Oh god. I'm so bad at singing that I would have gotten thrown out of choir had I taken it in uni.' John laughed again.

'I liked it.' John blushed. He blushed harder when he realized he hadn't changed since he got up this morning. There he stood, in the sitting room, wearing only a pair of red pants and a white undershirt that was a size too small.

_Damn good thing I've been working out again lately_. John though pensively.

'So is this what you do when I'm not home?'

'Uh- I guess. Well, when you and Mrs. Hudson aren't home. I wouldn't want her waking in on me like this.' John gave Sherlock a lop-sided smile.

'I don't imagine so.' Sherlock smiled back. 'Ill admit that your dancing was extraordinarily cute and endearing.'

John went red again.

'Just as I thought I had been able to drop the adjective cute.'

'Dont blame me. I wasn't the one dancing in my pants around the flat.'

'No. That's true.'

And silence descended again. What do you do after something like that has happened? Carry on as if nothing happened?

'So...' John drawled. Sherlock cleared his throat.

'Thats some interesting music.'

'Yep. My cousin works for The Wombats so I listen to them some times.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

Yet again. Silence.

'You really think I'm cute?' John asked tentatively. Sherlock groaned internally.

_Cat's out if the bag, Sherlock. Great job._ He thought_. Well, now there's no need to hide it._

'Yes.'

'Oh. Thanks.' John blushed for what seemed like the twentieth time that night. 'Would you, I don't know, want to go to dinner?'

Sherlock was shocked. Did John really just as him out?

'If you don't want to-' John tried to cover up because he took Sherlock's stunned quietness as a rejection.

'No! No, I'd love to go.' Sherlock bit his lower lip. Coming home early worked out a lot better than he thought it would have.

'Ill just get some clothes on.'


	17. I remember it well

They were sat at a table carefully sipping wine. Sherlock's eyes darted about the room from guest to guest. He tried to deduce which one was the murderer, but needed a closer look. He grumbled and tossed himself back against the chair.

'What's wrong, Sherlock?'

'I need a closer look. I can't see everyone from here.'

'Sorry. I doubt I can do anything about that.'

Suddenly it clicked. Sherlock smirked and straightened up. Now, he only needed to wait for the right song.

Not even 30 minutes later a slow song rang out through the dance floor and all the singles cleared out. Left behind was only a few couples. They slowly swayed to the tune of I remember by Damien Rice.

'John, dance with me. Now.'

'Your crazy.' John said with an exasperated sigh.

'Please, John. It's for the case!'

'Fine, but I'll have you know I can't dance.'

'Thats no problem.'

Sherlock took his hand and they shuffled onto the floor. At first, they swayed much like the other couples. They held each other close and spoke in soft whispers.

'John, we have to move.' Sherlock murmured into John's ear.

'Im not great at dancing. Actually, I'm quite pants at it.'

'Ill lead and push my hand where you need to go.' Sherlock placed his strong palm at the small of John's back. John in turn placed his on Sherlock shoulder. The other hands clasped together. John eyes locked on to Sherlock's feet and moved along with where the hand was leading him.

Soon, they were effortlessly spinning around the other couples. They attracted quite a bit of attention, but they didn't notice. They were so enthralled with each other. John looked up at Sherlock with a goofy smile.

Sherlock slid his arm from John's back to his hand and grabbed firmly. Then he released John's other hand and rolled him out.

'Now, spin back into me.' Sherlock spoke softly and smiled. John did so with no hesitation. His back was pressed against Sherlock chest and his arms crossed his body. With great flourish Sherlock leaned John back. The song ended.

Their eyes were locked on each other. Everyone around them had stopped to applaud their dance moves, but they paid no mind to them. Sherlock reeled John back up into his arms. They were back to position they had started in. John and Sherlock slowly swayed while they embraced.

John broke the silence.

'Did you find out who it was?'

'Yes. The moment we stepped on the dance floor.' John laughed quietly.

'You could have just asked me to dance. You didn't have to cover it with a case.'

'I could have, but would you have said yes?' Sherlock smirked down at John.

'Probably not.'

They stayed on the dance floor for the rest of the night. They had long ago given up paying attention to the music and just gently moved with each other. John's head rested on Sherlock's shoulder and in turn Sherlock's head leaned on top of John's.

The music came to an end and they strolled off and out the building holding hands.

'Thank you.' John whispered.

'For what?'

'Showing me how to dance. I really enjoyed it.'

'As did I.' Sherlock leaned over to kiss John as the cabbie pulled up.

That night Sherlock continued his dance lessons. They spun around the flat until John finally fell into step. Song after song played and they were still waltzing about.

* * *

A/N:

Saturday night I went to a party and I danced with my friend, Ian. He was surprisingly the best dancer there and taught me how to waltz. After that I was inspired to write my story down, but change it into a johnlock.

So this was kinda my Saturday night :)

And yes I know I wrote 2 song FICS in a row...

P.s. PLEASE PLEASE check out I remember by Damien Rice. To me, it perfectly describes Johnlock. :)))))


	18. In a heart beat

A/N: I was requested to meet Mr. Holmes a while ago.. Well here you are :)

* * *

'Sherlock! Welcome home!' Mr. Holmes boomed. Sherlock merely grunted.

'Hello, Mr. Holmes. It's nice to finally meet you.' John extended his hand and Mr. Holmes shook it firmly.

'Yes. It's about time Sherlock brought you around. He always was the procrastinator. He never got anything done on time when he was young.'

'Oh.' John said quietly. He couldn't shake the feeling of overwhelming passive aggression. 'Well, we are always very busy. It's hard to get time to leave work.'

'Yes. Yes, of course.' Mr. Holmes ushered them to the living room where Mrs. Holmes was waiting. She had tea and biscuits laid out on a glass coffee table. When the men walked into the room Mrs. Holmes stood to greet them.

'Sherlock. John. Nice to see you again.' She gathered them each in separate hugs.

'Yes, Mummy. It's been too long.' Sherlock said as he sat down on one half of a love seat. John took his rightful seat next to him. John placed a strong hand on Sherlock's knee and squeezed gently. They fell into idle chit-chat. The group of four spoke of the weather and other mundane topics before Mr. Holmes mentioned their relationship.

'I must say I am very surprised at this relationship.' He started. John gave him a curious look. 'I never thought that anyone would ever like my son. He was always a bit of a loner. A freak, you know?'

'I believe he is more personable than you think of him.' John replied cautiously. He didn't want to anger Mr. Holmes, but he thought they way he was treating Sherlock was all wrong.

'Oh? Well, you must be confusing my son with someone else.' Mr. Holmes laughed. 'We tried to raise him in a loving, caring, and nurturing environment. We had hoped for a very kind child, but instead we got an emotionally detached one. You live and you learn, I guess.'

'Our definition of nurturing environment must be very different, Father.' Sherlock grumbled. 'My definition doesn't involve abuse and ridicule.'

Mr. Holmes laughed again.

'I see we also failed in giving you a good sense of humour, too.'

Sherlock pursed his lips and balled his fist. John leaned over pick up a cup of tea. After taking a sip he offered it to Sherlock so he would have something to keep his hands busy. Sherlock declined and continued to stare harshly at his father. Mr. Holmes dismissed the rude glare and continued to speak.

'What are you doing again for work?'

'We work together as consulting detectives.' Sherlock answered grimly.

'I wouldn't say that. He's the clever one. I just help when I can.' John smiled with good manner. He tried to ignored the snide remark Mr. Holmes had made earlier.

'That's good. When he was young we highly encouraged his ability. Sherlock has been very smart since he was born. We did all we could to further his education.'

'If by further you mean exploit. You did a magnificent job at that.' Sherlock retorted. John looked up at him with concerned eyes. He stroke his thumb across Sherlock's knee in an attempt to offer what comfort he could.

'We didn't exploit you! We offered you challenges!' Mr. Holmes shouted in defense.

'The challenges included deductions for party guests and to impress your bosses.'

'It was to help you!'

'Virgil. Please, don't so this. Please.' Mrs. Holmes whimpered.

'Arabella, you are not to tell me what to do!'

'I wasn't, Virgil. I promise.'

'And Sherlock. You are no better than your mother. You haven't been treating me and your mother with the regards we deserve. Your behavior is horrid especially for having a guest.' Mr. Holmes gestured to John.

'Dont bring me in to this, sir.' John grit his teeth.

'Excuse me?'

'I said don't bring me in to this.' John repeated.

'You have a mouth on you, too! You should be treating your elders with respect.'

'I would give you respect if you deserved it, sir.'

'What are you trying to say, boy?'

'You are a disgrace of a father. No one should ever treat their family they way you treat yours. A family should consist of love and kindness, not the belittling comments and clear abuse you offer.'

'Who are you to say that about my family? You know nothing of what I offer to my family!'

'I beg to differ. I know enough to be able to say what you are doing is wrong.'

'Even if that is true, you are in no place to judge the way I govern my family!'

'I do have a right to protest the way you treat my partner!' John shouted and stood. His eyes seethed anger and nostrils flared.

'He was my son before he was your partner.'

'He didn't choose to be your son. Sherlock chose to be my partner.' With that John left. He was afraid if he had stayed any longer it would have gotten violent. No one had the right to treat his Sherlock that way. It was so hard watching their co-workers call him awful names and judge him for his intelligence. It was ten times as hard to watch Sherlock's father treat him the same.

John stomped off toward the gardens getting lost in the maze of flowers and bushes. He kept walking. And walking. And walking. He had no idea how long he was out there. John just kept walking until he walked the anger away. When the anger left it was replaced with fear.

How could I have left Sherlock alone in there? John ridiculed himself for being so dumb. He turned around to go back to the manor, but realized he was lost. Dreadfully lost. John shouted in frustration and sat down on the grass.

'John?' Sherlock placed his hand on his back and John looked up. When he looked up he saw his worst fear. A large bruise was swelling on sherlock's face. John quickly jumped up to assess Sherlock's wound. He gently pressed fingers around the bruise to judge the damage.

'Im sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left you. I'm sorry.' John repeated over and over.

'Dont apologize.' Sherlock grabbed John's hand and lowered it from his face. Sherlock pulled John into a protective hug. 'Thank you.'

John wriggled around to face Sherlock.

'What for?'

'Standing up to my father. No one has ever done that.'

'I'd do it again in a heart beat.'


	19. 9 days

A/N: This next chapter isn't exactly smut, but it is a bit more of an adult topic. If it ain't your cup of tea.. Don't drink it ;)

Well any ways... This chapter has very very VERY strong allusions to fun times... Beware

************************************************** ******************************  
It started with a case and ended with spaghetti at Angelo's.

I know, it sounds boring and average. It sounds like every other case that ends with a date at Angelo's. It sounds so normal, but its not. Trust me, it's anything but normal.

* * *

'So you figured all that out because she was abstinent?' Lestrade questions in amusement.

'Yes.' Sherlock answers curtly.

'Well, I'm just amazed she was abstinent for five years! Damn. I'd never last that long. I can barley go a week.'

'Abstinence is not a hard quality to achieve. It would be really easy for me, in fact.'

John scoffs.

'What?' Sherlock looks to John. 'I could do it if I put my mind to it.'

'Bull shit.'

'Hardly.'

'Sherlock, we can barely go out for a couple hours with out you getting a hard-on. You wouldn't last a week.'

'And I suppose you could go five years?' Sherlock asks incredulously.

'Im better than you are.'

'Please.'

'Wanna bet?'

'Prepare to lose.'

'Nympho.' John mutters under his breath.

Lestrade is flabbergasted by this exchange. He knew they were together, but he never thought about the physical aspect of their relationship. He especially didn't think of Sherlock being a satyriasis. Oh god, this will be one to tell Mycroft when he got home.

* * *

John and Sherlock had gone 4 days before they became irritable. With his rising sexual frustration Sherlock found being around the idiots who patrolled the yard even more unbearable. Most of the idiots who patrolled the yard felt the same about Sherlock.

'Shut up, Anderson! You are utterly incorrigible! I've asked you to leave and take your awful advice with you!'

'I can't leave even if I wanted to. I work here.'

'And you're doing a shit job! Now leave!'

'How the hell does Watson deal with you?' With that Anderson left. Sherlock was seething and steam was blowing out of his ears. He spun around to face the mangled body on the ground. Deduction came flying double speed as if they were also frustrated.

'Arrest the innkeeper's daughter.' Sherlock shouted.

'On what premise? I need more than who did it, Sherlock.' Lestrade responded. He wasn't too happy about getting the bad end of John and Sherlock's little bet.

'She was wearing a golden ring, but claimed to be single. She also claimed at she had never seen this man before or been in this room all week. We all know that isn't true because this room -and his body- reeks of her perfume!'

'Was that so hard, Sherlock?'

'Yes.' Sherlock sneered and Lestrade snapped.

'Either get in that god damn broom closet with John or take you sexual frustration else where. Dealing with your stroppy mood is not my division.'

* * *

Another four days passed before they went back to the yard. Both were still unsatisfied and jumpy.

'You know what, Donovan.' The name dripped from his mouth with such malice. 'I don't give two fucks. That's right. I said it and ill say it again. I don't give two fucks that you think Sherlock is unqualified to be at this crime scene. You're just jealous he is better at your job than you are. So, Donovan, if you would so kindly shove it up you arse I'd be eternally grateful.'

Donovan just gaped and turned bright red. She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again. She repeated this few more times. Eventually, Donovan gave up and stormed away from the crime scene. John smirked cockily.

'Still on that abstinence bet?' Lestrade asked.

'So what if we are?' John yelped.

'Nothing. Nothing at all.' Lestrade shook his head and strolled off.

* * *

They hadn't quite made it 10 days before a plate of spaghetti caused it all to come spiraling down.

It was an after case celebration at Angelo's. John ordered some spaghetti and Sherlock didn't order anything. That wasn't too abnormal, though. They chatted amicably and it seemed as though they finally got the hang of this whole abstinence thing. John figured it was like an alcohol or drug addiction. The first few days were the worst, but soon you got used to it.

'John! Here's your spaghetti and I'll be right back with a candle.' Angelo smiled brightly and stepped in the back.

It would all happen in the few seconds it took Angelo to get that candle.

John looked at his food excitedly and picked up his fork. Just as he went in for his third bite he saw another fork reaching out for the thin noodles. Sherlock twisted the long angel hair pasta around his fork and lifted it to his mouth. All but one noodle made it to his mouth. That lonely noodle hung out of his mouth and dangled over his chin.

Sherlock eyed the saucy piece of pasta. He gave a small smirk and hollowed out his cheeks. With one vociferous slurp he sucked in the never ending noodle. His lips wrapped tightly around it. The sucking cause his mouth to shape the traditional kissy face and it accentuated his deep Cupid's bow.

John was taken by surprise. He let his fork fall and clatter against the plate. John's eyes were trained on Sherlock's plump lips. Instantly John thought of all the other places those beautiful lips could be.

Dear lord. This abstinence thing is worse than I thought.

John's jaw tightened and he shifted in his seat. His eyes darted away from Sherlock's face. John searched for anything else to look at that wasn't those infuriating lips. Anything. A table, a another couple, the cars outside, his plate. Anything.

Then, Sherlock licked his lips.

His pale tongue lapped across his equally pale lips. Sherlock cleared all trace of the deep red pasta sauce and when he finished he smacked his lips. Glistening saliva shone against Sherlock's light colored Cupid's bow. John suddenly saw the appeal of lip gloss.

John's eyes were heavy with desire and his pupils blown to the size of flying saucers. His breathing was labored and mouth went dry. He wanted to end this crazy bet, but he wasn't about to lose. No. Sherlock would never let him live it down. Sherlock saw the lust that had consumed John and was hit with his own wave of lust.

Angelo was walking over to the table with a candle aflame. The small light flickered in Angelo's palm. He was smiling brightly and staring intently at the couple who will soon receive the little object of romance. Angelo only reached that halfway point before he stopped. A few feet away from him John and Sherlock jumped each other. Hands were flying everywhere and lips were locked.

With great talent they managed to leave the restaurant without letting their mouths be estranged.

* * *

In they end they lasted 9 days, but the argument on who gave in first lasted 9 months.


	20. Crisp November air

When John didn't find it incredibly annoying, he thought it was adorable how easily Sherlock got bored. In other words, he barely ever found it cute.

Today was no exception. Sherlock was mere seconds from placing a few more bullets into their wall and John was mere seconds from placing a few bullets in Sherlock. They had been case-less for two weeks. TWO WEEKS. Both men had reached their limits and were experiencing mild cabin fever.

'Joooooooohn. I'm bored!'

'I know.'

'Joooooooohn. I'm-'

'Sherlock, if you say it one more time I will come up with such a clever way to kill you not even the infamous Sherlock Holmes could deduce who had done it.'

'Bored.'

'God dammit, Sherlock! Get your bloody coat!'

'What for?'

'Were going out!' John stood and tossed aside his laptop. With sharp movements he pulled on his old green army jacket. Sherlock watched him with curious eyes. John was finally being interesting.

'Where?'

'The tube.' Sherlock scoffed and sat back down.

'Thats hardly an outing. The tube is dirty and crowded. I hate going on there because there's too much stupidity.'

'Yes. I know, but we can ride the tube and you can deduce everyone for me.'

It was times like these Sherlock know why John was perfect for him. Most people would berate him for his rude findings and deduction, but not John. John encourages it. John allows his mind to grow. John is exactly what Sherlock needs.

Sherlock hastily jumped up and threw on his jacket. The two men clambered down the 17 steps leading out of Baker Street. After saying good-bye to Mrs. Hudson they strolled off toward the tube. Crisp November air blasted on them as they stepped outside. It chilled them to the bones and caused their fingers to turn red. Seeking relief from the cold John grabbed for Sherlock's hand. Their frozen fingers twinned together and the combined body heat instantly brought back sensation to their extremities.

They didn't speak as they walked to the tube. John had nothing to say and Sherlock would be given time to speak a fair amount once they boarded.

* * *

'She is an inspiring artist and novelist. Her stories contain mostly romance novels and fantasy. She is about 28 and a high school drop-out. She isn't married or dating currently. She is on the look out for a man, though. I'd say she is looking for an older man. One who has a respectable job.' Sherlock smirked. 'Much like you.'

'Oh? Beware Sherlock. She is just my type. A young romance novelist with a poor education. I might just leave you for a stranger on the tube.' John smirked back.

'Moving along.' Sherlock pointed to his new victim. 'He is gay, but desperately feigning straightness. He is in a marriage. Most likely the woman in the marriage knows about that fact he's gay. He is a high-end business man. Possibly works for the government or for a bank.'

'Okay. Him next.' John gestured to a tall man in sweats and trainers.

'Just came back from the gym, obviously. He is very conscious about his looks, but tries to cover up his muscles. Peculiar man, indeed. I'd guess he has a murderous tendency, but that could be wistful thinking.' John scoffed.

'Only Sherlock Holmes would wistfully think that the man sitting by him on the tube was a murderer.'

'I said murderous tendency. He hasn't commit a homicide, yet.'

'Charming.' John squeezed Sherlock's hand. 'Her now.'

'Thats a man, John.'

John face went bright red and he coughed a bit. Sherlock laughed with good nature. After clearing his throat a few times John spoke.

'Well, then that man now.'

'Boring. He has the basic life. A wife. Two kids. A dog. A cat. The usual scene.'

'Yes. Of course.'

John and Sherlock rode the tube to the end of its tracks and back again. They deduced most everyone along the way. Now they were pulling up to their stop. It was late at night and there was very little people on the tube with them.

The cold November bite only got worse as the day had gone on. By the time John and Sherlock began to walk home John's jacket was doing little to help. He wrapped his thin army coat tight around him and huddled close to Sherlock. Sherlock allowed him to walk very close and placed a wiry arm around John's shoulders.

John's teeth were clattering and they still had a few more blocks to go. He groaned. Just as he finished groaning he felt a thick, heavy, and warm fabric cover him. He looked to Sherlock.

Sherlock just smiled.

John fingered the rough wool fabric of Sherlock's coat that now lay around his shoulders. He quickly tossed it off and tried to shove it back to Sherlock.

'You must be freezing. Please, take it back. I have my own coat.'

'No. No. I insist. I'm not cold and its the least I can do.'

John gave him a puzzled look.

'For helping me fight my boredom.' Sherlock clarified.

'Thats no problem. It was quite fun, actually.'

The two boys reared up to the front door of 221b Baker Street. John turned to face Sherlock.

'I- uh-' John couldn't finish his though. He got cut off by Sherlock's lips firmly pressed against his.

'I had a nice day. We must do it again.' With that Sherlock swooped back into their flat and proceeded to make tea.

'Yeah. We must.' John said to himself before following after Sherlock.

*  
A/N: yes. I am aware I posted 4 stories the other day. It was to make up for the lack of posts while my Internet was down. ITS FINALLY UP, THOUGH!

And before you ask... No this is not pre-slash. This is their relationship at a very early stage. :)


	21. Because you're John

Sometimes it happens. Not all the time, but on occasion it does. Sometimes Sherlock gets overwhelmed. When there's so much information in the world to gather, it's not always best to have a mind that gathers everything. Rarely, but every once in a blue moon his brain just has too much to handle -too much to process-too much to masticate.

When Sherlock gets overwhelmed he gets in this mood. He blinks rapidly and his eyes dart around the room. Sherlock also picks up these little ticks. He'll tap his forehead gently or straighten anything that seems a little out of place. That's not the worst part, though. When ever he gets in that mood Sherlock's knowledge on social mores seem to diminish.

'Sher?' John hesitantly reaches out. Sherlock flinches away. 'Dont worry. I'm not going to hurt you.'

When Sherlock gets like this John understands. He speaks with such gentility. John has been in these moods before. Before he met Sherlock. Before Sherlock fixed him. Now, John vows to do the same for Sherlock.

'Want some tea?' John asks. Sherlock scoffs.

John's fingers brush along Sherlock's as he passes over the tea mug. They linger a bit too long and Sherlock snarls. He quickly snaps back his hand. Tea splashes across his hand and down his sleeve, but Sherlock pays no mind.

'Are you ok? Does it burn?' John caresses Sherlock hands and inspects the red blossoming burn marks.

'Im fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. Never been better.' Sherlock's voice drags out the last word. He let it drip in the air like honey.

'Alright.' John smiles and Sherlock turns away. He shuffles over to the couch and chugs back the cup of tea. John sips his carefully and slides down next to Sherlock. He whispers to Sherlock. 'Just calm down.'

Sherlock writhes and squirms and edges himself away from John's extended hand. His toes wriggle and his fists clench. All of Sherlock's earlier ticks and nervous habits increased tenfold. He began to prod the leather of the couch and flicks away nonexistent specks of dust.

The fleeting movements channeled Sherlock's ever processing brain. Each and every one of the five million thoughts that flew through his head began to slow down. Sherlock started to simmer down. Well, simmer wasn't the right word. Sherlock started to, for lack of better word, collapse.

'Make it stop. Make it stop. Make it stop.' Sherlock repeated. He banged his head against the wall with every sentence. John shushed him and cupped his face. John pulled Sherlock's forehead against his.

'Just calm down. Focus on one thought and tell me all about it.'

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows and scrunched up his nose. He tried so hard to focus on one thought.

'Sherlock, tell me about it.' John uses a firm edge to his voice. Right now his goal was to ground Sherlock. 'Tell me what your thinking about.'

'You.' John was a bit surprised. This was a first. 'About the way you smile. It's a bit crooked, but perfect. Which is an awful yet beautiful anomaly. That's what you are really. An anomaly. A big complex anomaly. You are a gentle caring doctor, yet you are a rough toned soldier. You wear jumpers, yet you exude such confidence. You find me an insanely annoying, yet love me. Why, John? Why are you such an anomaly?'

John just stroked Sherlock's head. His fingers carded through Sherlock wild curly hair and gently massaged Sherlock's scalp. John wasn't sure how to respond to this. He was so deeply touched by Sherlock pained rambling.

'I don't know, Sherlock.' John spoke in soft tones. 'Why don't you tell me?'

'Because you're John. My John. My John.' Sherlock replaced his old mantra with this new one as he spiraled out of his over stimulated state.

'Yes. Yours. Always yours.'

Yes, it happens with great rarity, but it happens. Sherlock gets lost in the chaos of his mind and John helps him reach stable ground. Only John can help him reach stable ground. Only his John. His John.


	22. The girl with the flaxen hair

John had heard Sherlock play his violin on multiple occasions. Well, a more accurate description would be that he heard Sherlock torture his violin. Sherlock would carelessly scrap against the strings whenever an I welcomed guest entered his house. The trill noise was bad enough to drive a deaf man away.

John didn't mind, though. He never did.

One evening, on a quiet spring night, Sherlock finally played his violin for John. This time he did not mutilate the poor instrument. He didn't saw so hard that the gentle horse hairs on his bow would snap. Sherlock merely played. He was able to coax out the most luxurious and gorgeous sounds John had ever heard.

* * *

'John.'

'Mm?' John mumbled into Sherlock's shoulder. He had begun to doze off and John had automatically nuzzled into Sherlock.

'Id like to play my violin.'

'Thats nice, love.' John burrowed his head further into Sherlock.

'John.' Sherlock stated again.

'Yeah?'

'Id like to play my violin... For you.'

Now John was interested in what Sherlock was saying. He squirmed around a bit until he could look Sherlock in the eye. John cocked his head to the side and gave an inquisitive look.

'Would that be alright?' Sherlock asked. John smiled.

'That would be great.'

Sherlock carefully unfolded himself from John grasp. He stood and adjusted his robe before walking over to his violin. With slender pale fingers Sherlock caressed the finger board of his Stradivarius. He placed it gently below his chin and lifted up his thin bow. Sherlock closed his eyes. The bow found its way to the A string.

John is captivated with the elegance and beauty that one note exudes. His once sleep heavy eyes are pealed wide and entranced by Sherlock's undeniable grace.

Sherlock swayed along with the rhythm of his melody. The song was complicated, yet sounded so effortless. The tempo had a smooth rise and fall. The bow pressure increased and decreased fluidly. Crescendo. Decrescendo. Over and over again the notes sang in the quiet spring air.

The song ended on a soft high note.

Sherlock lowered his instrument and bow. John just stared at him with such wonderment.

'Was it okay?' Sherlock asked tentatively.

'It was more than okay. It was absolutely stunning. That was marvelous! Why don't you play like that all the time?' John jumped from his spot on the couch. He was suddenly filled with the overwhelming urge to touch Sherlock. John laid his hand flat against Sherlock's chest and drew absentminded shapes.

'So you like it?'

'Yes.' John smiled brightly. He traced the shape of Sherlock's jaw where the violin once sat. 'What was that song called?'

'The girl with the flaxen hair.'

'Mm.' John chuckled. 'Who wrote it?'

'Claude Debussy.'

'When did you start playing?'

'Mummy started giving Mycroft lessons when he was ten and I was five. Mycroft didn't like playing so I started going to the lessons instead.'

They stood there in the middle of the flat just gazing into each other's eyes. Some how that song conveyed a level of emotion that couldn't be worded. It was a love song, a serenade, but at the same time it was more than that.

'Can I ask one more question?'

'Anything.'

'What do you think about when you play?'

'You.'


	23. Stories

The stories started when Sherlock was sick. He had caught a nasty case of the flu. Sherlock moaned and groaned and coughed and sneezed and everything in between non-stop for the pat 3 days.

'Just go to sleep!' John snapped and rolled over on the bed to face Sherlock. 'You aren't going to get any better by complaining.'

'But, John, my head hurts!' Sherlock cried.

'Fine. Come here.' John sat up and gestured to his lap. Sherlock cocked his head to the side. 'Come on.'

Sherlock scooted closer to John and rest his head in John's lap. He looked up at John with a questioning face. John began to stroke Sherlock's hair. He massaged the scalp gently. The release of tension caused Sherlock sigh.

'John?'

'Yes, love?'

'Can you talk to me? It helps.' John furrowed his eyebrow. The request seemed a bit odd, but none-the-less he complied.

'Im not sure what to say. I guess I could tell you about my day at the surgery. Not all that interesting, just a few check ups and the measles.' John stuttered. 'Sherlock, I'm sorry, but I have no idea what to say.'

'It's fine.' Sherlock shifted into Johns hand. 'Tell me a story.'

'A story?'

'Yes, a story. Don't be shy, just get on with it.' John chuckled.

'Once upon a time-' John started but got cut off.

'Boring.'

'Im trying!' John yelped. Sherlock flinched and groaned at the loud noise. John stroked his hair again. 'Sorry, love.'

'It's fine. Tell me an interesting story, now.'

'Well... Once upon a time-' Sherlock groaned, but John continued. 'in an island there lived all the feelings and emotions : Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to them that the island would sink. So all of the emotions constructed boats and left. Except for Love.

Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment.

When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help.

Richness was passing by Love in a boat. Love said,  
"Richness, can you take me with you?"  
Richness answered, "Sorry Love, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat and so there is no place here for you."

Love next asked Vanity who was also sailing by. Vanity was also ready with the same answer.  
"I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered.

Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, take me along with you."  
"Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself!", sadness said in a sullen voice.

Happiness passed by Love, too, but she was so preoccupied with her happiness that she did not even hear when Love called her.

Suddenly, there was a voice, "Come, Love, I will take you." It was an elder. An overjoyed Love jumped up into the boat and in the process forgot to ask where they were going. When they arrived at a dry land, the elder went her own way.

Realizing how much was owed to the elder, Love asked Knowledge another elder, "Who Helped me?"  
"It was Time," Knowledge answered.  
"Time?" thought Love. Then, as if reading the face of Love, Knowledge smiled and answered, "Because only Time is capable of understanding how valuable Love is."' John looked own at Sherlock.

Sherlock had long ago forgotten about his head-ache and terrible case of the flu. He was completely enraptured by John' story.

'Was it too boring?' John asked sheepishly.

'No. No, of course not.' Sherlock laid a firm hand on John's chest. 'Where'd you hear that story?'

'My mum told me it when I little.' John explained. 'She told me that in time I would also see how valuable love is.'

'Oh.' Sherlock whispered. He began to lightly trace the outline of John's muscular chest.

'I believe that I have found the value in love.'

Sherlock smiled and removed his hand from John's chest. He placed it against John's cheek. Sherlock stroked John's soft cheekbones. Sherlock leaned in and gave John an affectionate kiss.

'As have I.'

* * *

The next story was told by Sherlock. John had picked up a nasty illness while working the surgery. He was drenched in cold sweat and curled around Sherlock's body.

'John?'

'Mmhm?' John mumbled into Sherlock's chest.

'Would you like me to talk to you?' John knit his eyebrows in confusion. After a second his sick-addled brain made the connection.

'Please.' John placed a chaste kiss on Sherlock collar bone and got comfortable to listen to Sherlock's story.

'I'm going on a leap of faith, back in your arms is my escape. I'm chasing shadows out of my mind, but when I turn the light blinds. See you've always been my hero, I look to you to save me more than you know. I need you to need me just that much, because everyone wants to feel needed by someone.  
People tell me you could be the one, and when I see your smile your blue eyes glow brighter than the sun, I'd like to believe I'm the one you can't get out of your mind, and I want you to be mine. You were once before, we can try to reopen an old broken door. You left me breathless, you're like fire and I'm a whirlwind- the way our embrace makes trees shake break and bend.. we could be a force to be reckoned with. What I'd like to hear is that you mean what you've said, prove that you care,  
because a love like you and me is rare.'

John wiped away the moisture in his eyes.

'I know it's not a story like your's was- it's a poem. I hope it was satisfactory just the same.' Sherlock tried to hide the yearning for approval in his voice. John heard it anyway.

'I loved it.' John gave Sherlock another restrained kiss on his clavicle. 'I love you.'

'Im under the impression I might reciprocate said feelings.' Sherlock smirked. John gave him a gentle kick.

'You better, git.' John muttered.

* * *

From there on, whenever one of the boys who resided in 221b Baker Street felt subpar the other would tell a story. Hundreds- if not thousands- of these small tales were whispered. The walls of their small flat absorbed each one and soon their home was built on the foundation of sweet fables.


	24. Little John Watson

A/N: a little AU where John and Sherlock know each other before John goes to afghan and Sherlock meets Lestrade... :)

I promise its different than the AU John return I posted early!

* * *

Lestrade had just about had it with his job. It was mostly comprised of idiots who had over doused or got in a street fight. He used to feel bad for each body he found, but know Lestrade's feelings resonated in the 'its your fault for being so dumb' category.

He scoffed at the scene before him. Just another murder over quantity of drugs, or so he thought. Lestrade saw someone running away from the crime.

'Someone catch him!' Lestrade pointed at the man running. 'Now!'

A couple Yarders jogged after the runner. The runner saw his pursuers and stopped in his tracks. The man spun on his heels, cursed, apologized, and held out his wrists to be cuffed. He yarders were thrown off guard by his submissive attitude. The runner was escorted back to Lestrade, who then ushered him into the police car.

The ride back to NSY was quiet. Lestrade felt bad for the man. Since he had been in the field for so long he could tell when a man was guilty. The runner was not. Simply a man in the wrong place at the wrong time. Lestrade wished he could drop the poor man home, but law mandated he was questioned.

'Music?' Lestrade asked the runner.

'Uh? Yeah, sure. Ta.'

The station flipped on and the awkward silence was filled. Lestrade soon pulled up to the yard. He showed the man into his office where Lestrade de-cuffed him. They men sat down with cups of freshly brewed coffee before Lestrade began to question.

'Excuse me, but I was wondering if I could call my partner? You see- it's our anniversary and we had plans to go out. I don't want to leave my partner worried.' The runner explained.

'Yeah. Yeah, it's fine. Let her know your safe... for now.' Lestrade chuckled. 'First can I get a name?'

'Watson. John Watson.' The runner -or John- pulled out his phone and dialed the number with great speed. He stood up, but stayed close to the chair.

'Hey, love.' John cooed.

'Yes. Yes, I know.'

'I can't. I'm stuck at the yard.'

' No- No-' John seemed to be getting cut off diligently. 'Calm down. Please. I'm fine. I was at a crime scene and I ran. You know how hard it is to break an old habit.'

'Of course I didn't commit the murder!'

'Dont call the yard stupid and I think their IQ is just fine as is.' Lestrade laughed a bit. John's wife seemed to be much like another man he knew. Lestrade continued to watch John as he grew more and more flustered with the recipient of his call.

'No. Do not come down.'

'I said no! I can handle this myself self, Sh-' John was cut off again.

'I love you, too, but don't come down.' Suddenly the call ended. John huffed and stuffed his phone back into his pocket. 'Sorry.'

'No. It's fine, mate. I've got one at home, too. Crazy as shite.' Lestrade laughed.

'Well, my partner takes the cake. You've got hell in a good coat on its way here.'

'Im sure I know someone who's much worse.' John laughed.

'Doubt it.' They exchanged crazed stories of marriage and Lestrade even began to question him a bit before Sherlock burst in. He was manic. His eyes seething with anger and his hair wild. Sherlock seemed to have just thrown his scarf and jacket over his Jim jams before running over here.

'Bloody hell, Sherlock! I've got an investigation going on! You need to get out of here!'

'You are wrong, as always.' Sherlock huffed.

'I know that, but the law requires me to ask him a couple questions. I don't think man here could do serious harm.' Lestrade gestured to John. He was barely scraping at 5 foot 7 and John was clad in an oversized jumper and jeans. Hardly menacing.

'That man was in the army! He killed people!'

'I was merely a doctor.' John piped up. Lestrade seemed thrown back that the man didn't find it queer Sherlock knew that about him.

'You had your bad days!' Sherlock turned to Lestrade. 'Now, release him.'

'Why should I?'

'Because we have places to be!'

And that sent Lestrade into a stunned silence. All the pieces fell into place. Sherlock was John's crazed partner. Sherlock was the one John was going to an anniversary dinner with. Sherlock was the one John called love. Lestrade's face contorted in confusion and mild disgust. He was happy for Sherlock, but could help wondering what was wrong with John. I mean- no one really likes Sherlock except him. Now he was to believe Sherlock was married? Nope. Didn't buy it for one second.

'Sherlock.' John warned.

'No, John. I just want us to have a nice anniversary dinner and Lestrade had to ruin it!'

'He did nothing wrong.' John's own realization crashed over him like a wave. 'Wait... This is Lestrade? The one that let's you help on cases?'

'Yes.' Sherlock crossed his arm petulantly.

'You shouldn't be yelling at him! You should be thanking him! I should be thanking him! Damn.' John turned to Lestrade and extending his hand. 'Thanks for helping out Sherlock. I was so worried he would relapse when I was gone. You kept him busy. I can't thank you enough.'

'Uh... Don't mention it.' Lestrade shook his hand. 'Sorry, but I'm really confused. You two are married?'

John answered with a yes and Sherlock just sighed.

'And.. You recently got back from the army?'

Same response.

'Sherlock, is this a person you were texting Tuesday when we were supposed to be doing paper work?'

'Yes, of course.' Sherlock rolled his eyes.

'Sherlock! Why didn't you say you were working?' John glared at said man.

'You would have stopped texting me.'

'Yeah, but-' John got cut off again.

'Case and point. I didn't want to stop texting you. I hadn't been able to speak to you for a couple weeks. I missed you.'

John and Lestrade both looked equally in shock. John laid a hand on Sherlock's bicep and Lestrade just opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

'Can John leave now?' Sherlock asked ignoring Lestrade's flabbergasted stated.

'He needs to sign a few papers, but I guess.' Lestrade dug out some paper and thrust them to John. 'I have one more question.'

John looked up from the papers.

'What did you mean when you said running away was an old habit?' Sherlock scoffed and seemed highly annoyed by the question.

'John came back from the war on honorable discharge. He was shot in the shoulder and when he heard the victim receive a bullet in the heart, he ran. John has just returned from the war. Obviously he still has the same instinct to run from the sound of a gunshot. Simple really.'

'Be nice, Sherlock.' John focused his attention back to Lestrade. 'But yes. He is right. Hit the left one. Almost bled to death.'

'Ah.' Lestrade shuffled the papers John had signed. 'Well, you are good to go I guess.'

'Ta.' John smiled brightly and Sherlock moved to yank him out of the office. 'Wait, Sherlock.'

Sherlock waited. That confused Lestrade endlessly. No one had control over Sherlock. He just did as he pleased when he pleased. John Watson must really be special.

'Id like to thank you again, Lestrade. You managed to keep my husband from going crazy -Or I should say crazier- while I was gone. I don't think I could have handled it if I came back and he was gone. Thank you.'

'Think nothing of it, mate. He's a good help round here.'

John smiled proudly at Sherlock. He took Sherlock hand and they left. Just before John and Sherlock were out of the line of vision John pulled Sherlock around to face him. Lestrade couldn't hear what they were saying, but Sherlock blushed. Lestrade shook his head and wondered if the surprises would ever stop. Just as he thought it, John grasped Sherlock's face and kissed him soundly.

_Nope_. Lestrade thought. _I think I'll always be surprised by little John Watson._


	25. The tube ride home

'Theres no way that's happening, Sherlock.'

'Why? It's the only logical solution to all your problems.'

'Public indecency? Have you heard of it?'

'John, sitting on my lap is hardly indecent.'

Now, people started to look. Sherlock and John had been unable to procure a cab so they decided to take the tube. Bad decision. What seemed like millions of people were huddled into the box car. When John and Sherlock boarded there was only one spot for the both of them and John insisted Sherlock took it. He did, but soon John complained of foot pains.

'How would you know? Your social mores are all screwed up.'

'Fine. You don't have to sit on my lap, but I'm not getting up. You've decided not to sit. Your foot pains are not my fault, so don't complain to me.'

John huffed. His feet were really killing him and he needed to sit. It's just that sitting on Sherlock's lap in a crowded train didn't seem right. Oh god did he want to. John wanted nothing more than to collapse into his partner's lap and have himself a proper cuddle. He just couldn't. Could he?

The train ride seemed to drag on forever. John's need for relief of his foot pains was rapidly gaining ground on his need for public discretion. Each second felt like hours to John's sore legs.

_Sherlock was the one who made me run all round London. _John thought angrily._ This is completely his fault._

John began to shift from foot to foot. He was visibly uncomfortable and everyone on the train with half a brain cell could see. People began to eye John. They seemed to be unsettled by John's lack of comfort. Soon other passengers started to restless and twitchy.

'John, just sit down.' Sherlock pleaded with an air on nonchalance.

'I said no.'

'John, please sit down. I don't like seeing you in pain. Please.'

'Sherlock.' John gave him a firm glare. He was also the recipient of equally firm glares from the strangers who boarded with them. He didn't need to be the world's only consulting detective to know what they were thinking. He sighed. Everyone on the train now thought less of John for being upset with his partner for trying to offer comfort.

The awkward side steps and disappointed looks finally got to John. He threw himself down on top of Sherlock. Sherlock welcomed him with open arms and John blushed with great fervor. He avoided any and all eye contact. Sherlock wrapped his lithe arms around John. Sherlock continued to tap on his phone which now sat in John's lap.

'This is stupid.' John muttered and Sherlock gave a small kiss to the landscape of skin that sat between John's shoulders. John's new skin color could easily be compared to that of an juicy red delicious apple.

'No one cares, John. Stop focussing on what people think.'

'Still... It's a bit weird.' John whispered. He started following the lines of veins on Sherlock's arm and hand with his finger tips.

'I don't mind what others think. We won't see any of these people again, so their opinion doesn't matter.'

'Thanks, love.' John's voice was barely audible. He felt Sherlock smile into his back.

After John sat down the train ride was infinitely better. He almost felt upset when the train pulled up to their stop. Almost. The wheels screeched as they pulled up and they were jostled a bit while the train jerked to a halt. John was the first passenger out of the box car. Sherlock slowly ambled behind, laughing to himself.

The two men of 221b Baker Street convened and clasped hands. They leisurely strolled down the street to their flat. John and Sherlock chatted happily. They didn't release each other's hands as Sherlock fumbled to open the door.

'I still can't believe I actually sat on your lap!' John shook his head and laughed despite himself.

'It was the logical thing to do.'

'Oh come off it.' John nudged Sherlock. Sherlock struggled to hide his smirk. 'You know you loved it.'

'Perhaps with you, I did.' Sherlock's smile broke through. 'But if it had been anyone else I might have felt a bit like Father Christmas.'

* * *

A/N: just a little short one to apologize for my lack of updating recently. I have revisions, but I'm trying really hard to write. It's just my english revision is ALL writing so I've hit a bit of writers block. Sorry:(


	26. Jenny Jenny

**A/N: My very good friend, Rose, prompted me with this next story. It's a bit different from her original prompt so I hope all is forgiven.**

**Anyways... She asked for teen!lock so here another chapter with teen!lock in it. This is by NO MEANS related to my other teen!lock chapter. This one has them a bit older (like 18-19 and in uni)**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

John hadn't even wanted to go to this party. It was going to be filled with many sad drunk teenagers who were trying to prove that they didn't care they had no romantic lives. They cared, though. Who wouldn't? John couldn't imagine anyone happy to be single on Valentine's Day. He certainly wasn't.

John knocked on the door to his good friend's dorm. He was assaulted with the smell of alcohol and sheer desperation when his friend, Greg Lestrade, opened the door.

'John! You finally made it to my anti-Valentine's Day party! I thought you were gonna skip on me, again.'

'Uh... No. I'm here.' John gave Greg his best fake smile. It still looked terribly uncomfortable.

'Come in... Come in... Everyone's here. Mike, Anderson, that guy in marketing class, Sally, Molly, and everyone else.' Greg flamboyantly pointed to each guest and ended with a large flourish that indicated the whole room.

John slowly slide into the over crowded dorm room. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the party. When John was offered a big cup of beer, he graciously accepted. Anything to ease the horrific night he was about to face. The first cup took the edge off and the second gave him a gently and happy humming sensation. After the third cup he had settled into the feel of the party.

'Ok!' Greg jumped on top of his bed and shouted to gain the attention of his whole party. 'I couldn't care less if you think it's stupid, but were playing a party game.'

The general consensus was a groan.

'Dont give me that! This is my party. We're gonna play truth or dare. It's gotta be serious, though. Like daring someone to streak across the garden by the library and not that dumb stuff we did in high school, okay?'

When the weight of the game was heavier more people seemed to like the idea. The group of single teens and young adult gather in a small circle. Once the lopsided circle was made, a mysterious empty beer bottle appeared in the center.

'Im the host so I get to spin first.' Greg flicked his wrist and the bottle went flying. All the guest leaned in toward the bottle as though they were excited to be chosen. John wasn't quite drunk enough to relish in the idea of having a turn at this particular party game. He had a bad feeling about this. Drunk dares never ended well.

The bottle slowed to a stop and landed on that guy from marketing.

'Truth or dare?'

'Truth.'

'Aw, mate, you're no fun! Fine. Fine. Um... Is it true you tried to get with the art teacher in your first year?' Greg scoffed.

Marketing man flushed red. He muttered a small noise that sounded like a yes. Once the party members gave the appropriate response, marketing man spun the bottle. This time it landed on Sally.

'Truth or dare, Sally?'

'Dare.' She was greeted with a bunch of inebriated "oooo"s

'I dare you to...' He gave a look of deep concentration. 'Chug four pints in a row.'

'Thats ridiculous!' She hollered. Sally was poked and coerced into actually performing her dare. The partiers gather around the kitchen table. All 20 or so clambered into the kitchen to watch Sally. Four pints were set in front of her. She swallowed deeply, exhaled, and began he biggest drinking binge she had ever been on.

With a large belch she threw the last empty pint on the ground. Sally smiled triumphantly. Rowdy applause filled the kitchen.

'My turn to spin!' Sally yelled as the huddled back around into the circle. John sat back a little bit hoping the bottle wouldn't find him. Unfortunately, it did. The long bottle neck pointed undeniably at him. John sighed and bucked up.

'Dare.' He answered with out being asked. Sally snarled.

'I dare you to text a stranger your deepest secret, but you can't know who they are after you text them.' John's eye shot wide. He instantly thought of Sherlock. The wild, crazy, clever, gorgeous, unattainable man he lusted for. John hadn't told anyone about Sherlock. First of all , Sherlock was a man. Second, he was viewed as the freak of the school. No one really accepted Sherlock. No one would accept them as a couple. Oh lord, his deepest secret was really deep. Too deep.

'Okay.' He said with out thinking. John's alcohol addled brain speaking for him. 'But what number do I call?'

'Hell, I don't know.' Sally said dismissively.

'What about the number from that song?' Greg suggested.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Anderson quipped.

'That song about that girl.' Greg tried desperately to explain.

'There are a thousand songs about girls, Greg.'

'Im talking bout the one bout that chick name, Glenna. It's an American song.' Greg hiccuped. 'Oh wait! Is Jenny!'

'Well, what's the number?' John asked as he whipped out is cell.

' EIGHT - SIX - SEVEN - FIVE - THREE - OH - NINE!' He sang loudly and out of key.

John repeated the numbers to him. He quickly punched in the numbers and typed out a message

_I, John Watson, have been dared to text this number a dark secret within the sacred binds of a game of truth or dare at the most horrible party I have ever attended in my life. I do not know your identity, and was told that you giving away your identity would invalidate the dare. Happy Valentine's day, my anonymous friend, I'm gay and wildly in love with strange man named Sherlock Holmes._

The party only got progressively worse. John spent the whole night with a small voice in the back of his head reminding him that someone out there knew about his dirty little secret. Yes, John regretted ever coming to this party.

John tried to drown out his worries by drinking. A lot. He chugged several pints before stumbling back to his dorm. His hands shook as he fumbled with his keys. John carefully inserted his key into the lock before collapsing into his bed.

* * *

The next morning, John woke in the haze of a hang-over head ache. The sharp throbbing in his temple just wouldn't cease. With great effort, John got up and retrieved a small bottle with aspirin. Even though he was studying to become a doctor and knew the proper dosage for the pills, He still swallowed down one too many. John was hoping that extra pill would help diminish the mortification he felt when he remembered last night's game of truth or dare.

John's shaky legs carried him back to bed. The pounding in his head prevented him from actually going to sleep. He just laid there sprawled across his bed. John upper arm draped over his eyes acting like shield against the violent light of day. His other arm rested on his stomach. John groaned with self pity and decided he might as well check to see if his anonymous friend responded.

The stranger had.

_I, Sherlock Holmes, have not been dared to text this number a dark secret within the sacred binds of a game of truth or dare at a truly horrid party. I'm very aware of your identity, and I am deeply sorry my response has invalidated your dare. I hope you will forgive me, but I needed to tell you this. Happy Valentine's day, my dearest John, I'm gay and wildly in love with a stunning and brave man named John Watson. _


	27. Secrets

**A/N: so you got John's drunk texting.. Here Sherlock's :)**

* * *

_There is something I should like to tell you. It's a very confidential secret. -SH_

Worry wracked John's body. What on earth could Sherlock have to tell him? Instantly his brain thought the worst. The horrid what ifs plague his mind. John was at work and couldn't get home to Sherlock if he was needed.

_What's wrong? Are you alright? - JW_

_I'm perfectly fine. I think. -SH_

_What do you mean you think? What's going on? - JW_

_I will tell you my secret now. -SH_

_okay... - JW_

_I'm drunk. -SH_

Relief flooded his body. An inebriated Sherlock wasn't the worst thing. Granted, it wasn't the best thing, but John would take it over some of the what ifs he thought up.

_Is that all, Sherlock? -JW_

_I'm under that impression. -SH_

_Well, I'll leave you to it. I'm at work so you have to stop texting me. -JW_

_No. -SH_

_What do you mean no? -JW_

_And why are you drunk at 10 in the morning? -JW_

_I have deduced you ask a lot of questions. -SH_

_Great job. I have deduced that you don't answer any of them. -JW_

_Marvelous deduction! I should take you along on my cases. -SH_

_You do. -JW_

No. No. I bring along another man. Not you. -SH

_What? -JW_

_I bring along a good friend of mine, John. You should meet him. -SH_

_I am him. -JW_

_Hardly. You aren't as atheistically pleasing as he his. -SH_

_... -JW_

_I don't understand your dot dot dots. Are you offended that I don't find you attractive like I do John? Sorry, no one is attractive as he is. Don't take it personally. -SH_

_Sherlock, I am him. I'm the one you bring on cases. -JW_

_No. You are not. You aren't as clever as he is. Clearly. You believe you're another man. That's not nearly as clever as my John. -SH_

_I am John! -JW_

_Wrong. -SH_

_You know what... I have to work. You go sleep off the alcohol and we will discuss this when I get home. -JW_

_You don't live here. My John lives here. -SH_

_Good-bye. -JW_

_Auf Wiedersehen. -SH_

John was able to get through a couple more patients. One had a severe cold, another with a rash, and two hypochondriacs. He gave them the proper treatment before sending them along. Just as lunch rolled around, John got another text.

_Hello. I'm sorry. -SH_

_Hey, it's fine. What are apologizing for? -JW_

_What I said earlier. -SH_

_What did you say? -JW_

_By god! You really aren't clever! -SH_

_I thought you were apologizing. -JW_

_I was trying to, but then you got all... Stupid. -SH_

_Thank you. -JW_

_That wasn't a compliment. -SH_

_Sarcasm. -JW_

_Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. -SH_

_Thank you. -JW_

_Funny. -SH_

_I try. - JW_

I'm going to take a lucky guess and say you're still drunk? -JW

_Astute guess. -SH_

_How are you so articulate even when you're drunk? -JW_

_Magic. -SH_

_What happened to sarcasm being the lowest form of wit? -JW_

I can do as I please. -SH

_I guess. -JW_

_Could I bestow on you another secret. -SH_

_Bestow? Really? That's your choice of words? Never mind. Go on and bestow another secret. -JW_

_Bestow is the appropriate term. And my secret is about John. -SH_

_I am John. -JW_

_Oh do shut up, fake John. I'm trying to tell you a secret. -SH_

_I'm listening... Or reading I suppose. -JW_

_Ok. Ready? -SH_

_Yes. -JW_

_Are you sure? -SH_

_Get on with it! -JW_

Touchy. Touchy. -SH

_Either tell me or don't. -JW_

_I'm in love with my John. -SH_

John dropped his phone and his sandwich. As the food and mobile hit the ground everyone started to stare at John. He just blushed and picked up his now soiled lunch. He gave his phone the once over to see if any damage was done. None, thank god.

'John, are you okay?' Sarah asked mildly.

'Uh... Yeah. I just got a bit of a fright.' John squeaked out.

'What happened?'

'Oh... I... Uh... Family emergency?' John tried.

'Do you need to leave?'

'No. It'll be fine.'

'Alright.' She answered incredulously.

John chucked his lunch and sat down at the table with the rest of his colleagues. Everyone spoke cheerily of their kids and what they did over the weekend. He was surprised the world didn't stop spinning. John felt like everyone could tell by looking at him that his drunk flatmate just admitted that he was in love with him. With a shaky hand John extracted his phone.

_Why are you ignoring me? -SH_

_You aren't jealous of My John. Are you? -SH_

_If so you shouldn't be. As I said earlier no one compares to him. It's nothing personal. -SH_

_Should I tell John? -SH_

_Help. -SH_

_John decided the best corse of action would be to play along with Sherlock's little game._

_Calm down! -JW_

_I'm calm! -SH_

_Are you sure you love him? -JW_

_Yes. -SH_

_Do you think he loves you? -JW_

_Yes. Possibly. I hope so. -SH_

_Why haven't you told him before? -JW_

_I don't want him to leave. -SH_

_Oh? -JW_

_I fear that my love will ruin our friendship. I don't want to lose him. -SH_

_You won't. - JW_

_How do you know, fake John? If I tell him he'll just leave me! Then I'll have no one. Then I won't have John. My John. -SH_

_Trust me. He won't leave. -JW_

_If he does leave me I will personally hunt you down, fake John. If I lose the real John, you will pay. -SH_

_Touchy. Touchy. -JW_

Very funny. -SH

The rest of John's day wasn't nearly as exciting as the first half. He begrudgingly plowed through the rest of his work. The paperwork had been piled up from last week. He hadn't finished in favor of going out on a case with Sherlock. John regretted his decision. Now, he would have to work late in order to make up his work.

'Hey. I'm done with my work, so I'm leaving.' Sarah said as she popped her head into John's office.

'Thats fine. I'll lock up then?'

'If you don't mind.'

'Its good.' John turned his attention back to his paperwork. He had expect Sarah to leave.

'How's that family emergency?'

'The what? Oh, yes, it's all fine.'

'Didnt seem like it at lunch.'

'Really. It's fine.'

With that Sarah took her leave. John worked full steam ahead until he packed up his work. It was around eleven thirty when he locked up.

The walk to 221b took a little longer than expected. John reared up to his flat at midnight exactly. He fumbled sleepily with his keys. The door clicked loudly and he jumper up the seventeen steps with great ease.

'Sherlock? I'm home.' John called as he stepped inside.

He received no answer.

'Maybe that great oaf finally got some sleep.' John thought happily. He smiled sweetly when he saw Sherlock in the kitchen. Sherlock had slumped over onto the table. He was out cold. John strolled over and brushed away a curl from his face. John removed his jacket and placed it over Sherlock's shoulder. John pat his back gently and laid a soft kiss on his temple.

Of course, he wouldn't leave. John loved the mad man.

* * *

**A/N: let me know if you want the morning after?**


	28. Secrets part ll

Sherlock awoke in a tight cocoon made out of John's jacket. With a groan he lift his head. The first things Sherlock saw were the glass of water and two ibuprofen tablets.

'Hang-over headaches are killer. Take them.' John whispered. He was careful not to raise his voice and cause Sherlock any pain. It still did. Sherlock moaned again and tossed the pills down dry.

'Thanks.' Sherlock collapsed against the kitchen table again.

'That doesn't seem a great place to sleep. Want help going to bed?'

'No. I'm fine.' John shrugged his shoulders and carried on make tea. The kettle began to rattle and whistle. John apportioned the boiling water into two cups. After steeping for the perfect amount of time, John slide one cup over to Sherlock.

'So, what happened yesterday?' John asked smugly. He doubted that Sherlock would remember, but still the texts were there.

'Case.'

'I figured.'

'I needed to level of potency in a bottle of moonshine. Bloody nasty stuff.' Sherlock mumbled.

'It can be very strong.' John took a careful sip of tea before broaching the next topic. 'So, what do you remember?'

'Nothing after the fourth pint.'

'Jesus Christ on a bicycle! How much did you drink of that stuff?' Sherlock ignored the odd exclamation.

'I told you. I don't remember after my fourth pint.'

'Yeah. Right.' John couldn't help but feel a little sad Sherlock didn't remember. It wasn't Sherlock's fault and it was to be expected. Still, it hurt.

'Obviously I did something unusual yesterday.'

'What?' John kicked himself for answering too quickly.

'Your body language implies I said something of importance last night. At first you seemed happy when you asked about yesterday, but then were disappointed when I hadn't remember. Easy, really. The real question is what I said yesterday.' Sherlock squinted at John and only inflamed his massive headache. John violently blushed.

A few awkward and silent moments pasted before Sherlock gave up. He growled loudly and threw his hand in the air. Sherlock let his head fall back against the table in defeat. John merely stared in confusion.

'Just tell me! My head is too- too-' Sherlock gestured wildly with his hands. 'Crazy!'

'You texted me while I was at work.'

'Theres nothing out of the ordinary there.' Sherlock urged him to continue.

'You didn't think it was me, though.' Sherlock just furrowed his eye brows. 'You claimed I was fake-John.'

'And?'

'You told me something -oh dear, how did you word it?- a very confidential secret?' John tested to see if he remembered.

Sherlock's eyes blew wide. He quickly looked away under the pretense of his headache acting up. All Sherlock could do now was pray he hadn't told John the secret. The BIG secret. The secret that would alter their friendship and ruin it to a point of no return. He could only pray that he hadn't told John that he loved him. If Sherlock had, John would leave and then he'd have no one. He'd be alone.

'What did I tell you?' Sherlock's voice cracked and hung on the word you.

'Why don't you check your phone?' John said as he stood up. He lumbered over to the sink to put down his tea cup. Sherlock hastily whipped out his phone. He searched for his conversation with John.

There is something I should like to tell you. It's a very confidential secret. -SH

I'm drunk. -SH

Sherlock released and audible breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. John knowing he was drunk wasn't anything horrid. John would have known the second he got home anyway.

'Thats all? Really, John? You got all worked up by that? Even if you're not the world's only consulting detective you could have figured that one out.' Sherlock scoffed.

Now John was surprised. Apparently admitting your homosexual feelings to your flatmate wasn't that big of a deal.

'I thought it was a pretty big secret.'

'Hardly. I guess I just thought it was a big deal since I was very inebriated.'

'Sherlock! How the hell isn't that a big deal?' John's face was bright red with anger. Him yelling wasn't helping Sherlock confusion.

'Im sorry I don't find being drunk a huge secret!'

Oh. John thought. He hasn't seen the rest.

'Sherlock, have you read the rest of the conversation?'

'No.'

'Well I suggest you do.'

And Sherlock did. He began to shake in fear as the words flew by. Sherlock's world started to go fuzzy on the edges. His texts darted around in his head and made him hazy. You aren't as atheistically pleasing as he his. Sorry, no one is attractive as he is. That's not nearly as clever as my John. I'm in love with my John.

And his heart dropped. He had told John the secret. The BIG secret. The secret that would alter their friendship and ruin it to a point of no return. Sherlock and John were so happy together. Sherlock never needed more. He was content to just be John's friend, but he went a bloody ruined that.

'John?' Sherlock called.

'I will take it that you finished the rest of them?' John questioned with a playful tone.

'Yes.' Sherlock swallowed. 'And I'd like to apologize. Just as my brother has said. Caring is a chemical defect found in the losing side. I'm sorry I destroyed what ever it was that we had. I'm sorry I killed this friendship. I suppose I have two options and I'll let you decide. First, I could pack my things and leave. I know that will be easiest. Second, we can forget this. I'll push away all my feelings and even if all we'll ever be is just friends, I'll still take that.'

'Wrong.'

'What? What's wrong?' Even in emotional crisis Sherlock couldn't stand being wrong.

'All of it.'

'Oh.' Sherlock sputtered. 'So, what shall I do?'

'Listen.' John stood his ground and Sherlock nodded. 'First thing you got wrong was about caring. Caring is NOT a chemical defect found on the losing side. Second thing is that you think you destroyed anything. You didn't. Third thing is thinking you only have two options.'

'Now you're wrong! I have nothing else to do! There is no other option! Why don't you get it? You'll live everyday in fear that I'm about to jump you if I don't do either. You'll avoid me and that's just as bad -if not worse- than me leaving. I'd still lose you, John.' Sherlock's last words were barely above a whisper. All the yelling had put a huge strain on his pounding head. He'd never drink again no matter how important it was to a case.

'I said listen.' John straighten his back and angle his chin up higher. His speech adopted the easily used military tone. 'You are not going to lose me, Sherlock. You have failed to include the chance I might actually want this in your calculations. I don't want you to leave or push away your feelings. I won't live in the fear of getting jumped by you. In fact I'd bloody love it if you did!'

'John-' Sherlock voice wobbled.

'So now that you're done listening, you know what you're going to do?'

'No?'

'Kiss me.'

* * *

**A/N: well that was horrid. Sorry it's sooo incredibly OOC. I can't stand it, but I had little inspiration for this chapter. I don't know why. Again sorry it's god awful. I'll pay you back with some IN CHARACTER fluff. Ugh. Leave me alone to die.**


	29. Snow

**A/N: prompted with snow. Sorry it's weird and choppy, bit it kinda works. **

* * *

It's a well known fact that John wears jumpers. Hideous ones at that. It seems as the weather grows colder, the more horrendous the jumpers get. Today John wore one that was designed to be the most offending jumper with reindeers on it to grace this earth.

'Really, John?' Sherlock scoffs.

'What?' John asks defensively.

'That jumper is doing injustice to all of human kind!'

'I like it. It's festive.'

'Dear lord.' Sherlock rolls his eyes and emerged himself back into a medical journal. He tried so hard to focus on the journal, but just couldn't. Every time John moved about the flat the ornate reindeers caught his eyes. John faffed about the flat indifferent to Sherlock's disgruntled noises.

Eventually the bright red and green and blue beasts pushed Sherlock over the edge.

'John! Please! For the love of all that's holy remove that monstrosity! I can't concentrate on important work with those things prancing around the flat! It's bloody awful!'

John, at first, was shocked. He hadn't expected to Sherlock to hate his outfit so much. He knew the jumper was a bit over-zealous, but it still hurt to hear how much Sherlock hated it. John stood up and defrocked from his jumper. He let it fall to the rug.

'Sorry my clothes are distracting. I'll just leave if it bothers you all that much.' With that John took his leave. John bundled up into his jacket and walked out the door. Sherlock just stared after him. It was most certainly not his intention to scream and drive John away. That jumper was just so horrid. Sherlock groaned and throw himself face down onto the couch.

* * *

'Bloody wanker. Who is he to criticize my wardrobe?' Those where just a few of the phrases John angrily mutter as he stomped around the park. He was on his fourth lap around the lake when he ran into Mike Stamford.

'John!' Mike called. 'John! It's me, Mike. Nice to be seeing you again. I haven't seen you since I set you up with Sherlock.'

'Don't remind me.' John grumbled.

'Have a bit of a domestic?' Mike chuckled.

'Yeah. A bit.'

'Wait, are you serious? I didn't know you guys were together! That's great, mate. I mean- its not great you're having a fight, but you understand. Congrats.'

John just grunted.

'Well, anyways, what did the sodding idiot do this time?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'Clearly it does matter. You wouldn't be stopping around the park in negative ten degree weather if it wasn't a big deal. I remember once my wife threw me out during a blizzard! A bloody blizzard! Could you imagine that? I was freezing.'

'Sounds awful.'

'It was. I didn't do anything wrong, honest. I just-'

That conversation lasted way longer than it should have. Mike went on to explain the semantics of his worst domestic. John sat listening to the chatter box ramble about the old hag at home and so on and so forth. Not to long after Mike started talking John zoned out. He occasionally gave an affirmative nod or mumble of agreement to keep up the facade of listening.

* * *

'Yoo-hoo!' Mrs. Hudson called as she slunk into the flat. Sherlock merely moaned with discontent. 'Oh, Sherlock. What have you done?'

'Nothing, Mrs. Hudson! John just up and left me here!' He whined.

'Have a bit of a domestic?'

'Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know!' Sherlock curled up tighter into the coach.

'John doesn't "just up and leave" you. You must have given him a reason.'

'Why does everyone always blame me? Why isn't it ever John's fault?'

'Thats precisely right. It's never John's fault.' She sat down and  
placed a hand on his hip. 'He does so much for you. Sherlock, you don't see half of it. You're crazy, insane, sociopathic, impulsive, rude, clinical, and critical yet he still loves you. You have to treat John better than you do. So now tell me what happened?'

'He wore that ugly jumper with the multicolored reindeer. It distracted me from my work.' He looked up at Mrs. Hudson. 'It looked as though the South African flag exploded on his chest. That jumper is horrendous.'

'Sherlock. I'll bet it's not all that bad.'

'See for yourself. He left it next to his chair.' Se stood up and grasped the warm wool.

'I do admit its quite... Interesting.' She chuckled. Suddenly a realization dawned on her. 'Sherlock, did John leave with out a shirt on?'

'Yes.'

'It's snowing! He is going to freeze!'

* * *

The snow was coming down in sheets. It blanketed all on London in white. No one was outside. No one was dumb enough to go out in this weather. No one except Sherlock, of course. As he trudged through the thick white layer he left behind a trail. It was snowing so hard the path was getting covered up almost as soon as it was made. Sherlock turned his head away from the brunt of the wind.

'John!' Sherlock called out as he saw the short flaxen haired man. 'John, please wait!'

'Sherlock?' John was squinting into the blurry white storm at the moving body. Sherlock came running.

'John! You're an idiot!' Sherlock said while embracing him tightly. 'Your going to get hypothermia out here.'

'So will you.'

'I didn't leave with out a jumper.' Sherlock opened the flaps of his large coat and invited John in. John eagerly was enveloped in the warmth.

'Well it was doing injustice to all human kind. Why would I wear it?'

'Because its festive.' Sherlock said quietly. He stepped back from John minutely and passed John something. John felt the soft fabric of his jumper in his hands. He looked up at Sherlock with teary eyes. This was about as close to an apology Sherlock was ever going to give him. John stripped off his coat and quickly threw on his jumper. Sherlock passed him the jacket. Instantly John felt much better.

'Thank you.' John tilted up and placed a chaste kiss in his lips.

'Its all fine.'

* * *

The storm came and went. Luckily, so did an animosity between the two men of 221b Baker Street. Everything seemed to be happy and in place. That was until the next storm came. The blizzard was supposed to last four days.

When John awoke on the day the storm was forecasted to begin he stumbled into the living room and saw something a bit out of place on his seat. A horribly, incredibly, insanely, exceedingly horrid jumper was laid across the back. It had a smiling snowman on the front and little Father Christmases all around it.

John smiled.

'Thanks, Sherlock.' He said to the empty air in front of him.


	30. Sunrisesunset

'John. John. John, wake up.' Sherlock poked John's arm gently. John stirred and grumbled. 'John. John. Wake up!'

'Why?' John voice was thick with sleep. 'Its 5 in the morning, Sherlock.'

'Yes. Now, come along.' Sherlock pulled on His arm. John curled tighter into his pillow.

'Its the weekend. I'm not getting up at 5.'

'John, please.' Sherlock loomed over him. 'Please.'

'No.' Sherlock continued to repeat please over and over again. He began to punctuate his pleading with small kisses.

'Please, John.' Said man sighed loudly and rolled over. He looked up at Sherlock with sleep hazed eyes.

'Im awake.'

'Good.' Sherlock stood and stalked out of the room. Typical Sherlock. Just walking off and expecting John to follow. Of course, he would follow. John would always follow Sherlock.

John mumbled incoherently about Sherlock's wake up call. He tossed on a morning robe before following out. He was still muttering when he came into the sitting room. Sherlock was standing in the center with his usual impeccable posture.

'So, why did you wake me up at 5? It better be bloody good.' John questioned. Sherlock didn't give an answer. Instead, he took John's hand. The men walked over to the window. Sherlock crawled out onto the fire escape. He soon after motioned for John to join him. John did.

They walked up a series of 23 metal steps before arriving on the roof. The first thing John saw were a couple of blankets amassed together. He furrowed his eyebrows. Sherlock dragged John over to the pile of warm fabric and pulled him down. The two men sat hand in hand staring out into the darkness.

'This is a nice view, but why are we up here?'

'Its the best view.'

'Of?'

'The sunrise of course!' Sherlock rolled his eyes as though it was the most obvious of reasons to be on a roof at 5 in the morning.

'Oh?'

'Yes, John. I have always enjoyed the scientific beauty of a sunrise. I wanted to share that appreciation with you. When I was little I would sneak out on night I couldn't sleep and wait till the sun would rise. I would watch it every morning and on my eighth birthday I purchased a book on sunrises. I wanted to have a scientific explanation. Scattering affects the color of light coming from the sky, but the details are determined by the wavelength of the light and the size of the particle. The short-wavelength blue and violet are scattered by molecules in the air much more than other colors of the spectrum. This is why blue and violet light reaches our eyes from all directions on a clear day. But because we can't see violet very well, the sky appears blue. Because the sun is low on the horizon, sunlight passes through more air at sunrise than during the day, when the sun is higher in the sky. More atmosphere means more molecules to scatter the violet and blue light away from your eyes. If the path is long enough, all of the blue and violet light scatters out of your line of sight. The other colors continue on their way to your eyes. This is why sunsets are often yellow, orange, and red.'

Sherlock wildly threw his hand around to show John what he was speaking about. He pointed to the layers of gold and amber. John had no clue what Sherlock was talking about, but was enthralled with his enthusiasm. John smiled brightly when he saw Sherlock crack a wonderful smirk while explaining.

'It beautiful, Sherlock.'

'Yes, it is. I prefer to see it from the countryside. There's no fog or green house gasses or building to block the view.'

'Maybe one day we can go to the country together to see it, eh?' John squeezed Sherlock's hand lovingly.

'That would be... Nice. I think.'

A pale pink blush dusted Sherlock's checks. John grinned sheepishly. Barely a minute later the sun began to crawl up from behind the clouds. The sky began to shift its colors. First a pale yellow blended in from the blue. Then a soft orange and red came. After a few minutes the colors started to saturate and became vibrant shades. The red was easily compared to cranberries and the orange to fire.

'Sherlock?' John asked breaking the silence.

'Mm?'

'You are aware of how utterly romantic this morning has been?'

'It was not my main intention. It was merely a positive side effect.'

'You really know how to woe a man.' John chuckled light-heartedly.

'Again, not my intention-'

'Merely a positive side effect?' Sherlock shot him a harsh glance and John laughed softly. 'Its fine, Sherlock. I quite like it up here.'

'As do I.' Simultaneously they rest their head together. With a relaxed sigh they sagged into each other. They sat on the roof for a while longer. John and Sherlock didn't move until the sounds of a busy city grew too loud. They stood and folded up the blankets.

Sherlock leaned in for a kiss before facing his insanely hectic daytime life.

* * *

**A/N: short and sweet :)**

**Prompt was sunrise/sunset**


	31. Nothing more to say

**A/N: I wasn't excited or even planning on writing the wedding scene, but it was requested. Since I take all requests...**

* * *

They had nothing better to say to each other. You could have given them decades to prepare their vows, but you would get the same response. It was a summation of everything they had felt for one another. It explained why they would chase murders around London till the day they both fell over. It explained why John would always be there to patch up Sherlock. It explained why Sherlock would never find John boring.

'The vows you are about to exchange, will serve as a verbal representation of the non-verbal emotions that are as real as any thing that can be seen, heard or touched.  
For it is not the words that you will speak today that will bond you together as one - but the strength of the love and commitment found deep within your souls expressed in the words that you will speak.'

'Yes. Yes. Thank you. Can I just say them now?' Sherlock quipped. John response was a small giggle while all the other guests gave him a chastising glare.

'As I was saying. Vows are the embodiment of tacit emotions.' The officiant continued. Sherlock let out an audible sigh of impatience. 'Now the two grooms will share their vows.'

'Thank god.' Sherlock groaned. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. 'I, Sherlock Holmes, vow to love you.'

'I, John Watson, vow to love you.' And that was it. They had no need to spend a week and a half to explain why and how they plan to carry out their marriage. All that mattered was that they knew and whether the officiant or the two witnesses knew was moot.

After their incredibly short vows the wedding continued on a some what normal course. From beginning to end it was barley 15 minutes. John and Sherlock happily signed the documents and stepped aside for the witnesses to take their turn. Once everyone's John Hancock was printed nicely on the paper John and Sherlock thanked the strangers who had agreed to witness their wedding.

The odd couple strolled down to their next stop, Angelo's. Sherlock didn't want to make a big deal of their nuptials and convinced John it should be private. John agreed, but in return he made Sherlock go out to dinner right after and announce their marriage to all of their close friends. They had invited Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, Mycroft, and Mike.

The guests were under the impression that it was going to be an engagement party seeing as they didn't know John and Sherlock had been fiancées for quite a few months. So they were shocked when Sherlock let out the _little_ secret.

'Im aware you all must be very confused as to why we gathered you all here. It's not everyday this group is called upon.' Sherlock got a few mumbled answers along the lines of _damn straight_ and _impressive deduction_. Sherlock ignored them and carried on. 'I am now going to clear up all of your speculations.'

'Oh, just get on with it! I've got food to eat!' Lestrade joked. The group chuckled boisterously and Sherlock snarled.

'Well, John and I have a announcement.'

'I know you don't think I'm clever, but I'm not that stupid, Sherlock. We all knew that.'

'Yes, good.' Sherlock stood up a bit taller. 'Were married.'

Utter silence descended in the restaurant. Molly's eyes inflated to a comical size. Mike gave a small thoughtful frown, then nodded in consent as if he didn't find it the least be odd. Mycroft smirked knowingly. It was too much for John and Sherlock to think he didn't already know. Lestrade's face was contorted in confusion and Mrs. Hudson was on the verge of tears.

Sherlock just sat down. He began to chew slowly on his food. John and Sherlock carried on eating as though nothing abnormal had happened. They commented on the quality of the food. They group just stared at the two. The newly married couple's response wasn't helping their confusion.

'Congratulations.' Molly stuttered tentatively.

'Thank you.' John answered

'Um.. Yeah.. Good on ya, mate.' Lestrade forced out. The rest of the group also gave their own versions of the same thought.

'So, dear brother, care to explain?' Mycroft crooned.

'You see, when two men love each other very much-'

'Shelock, please.' John scolded gently. 'We had no intentions of making of wedding public knowledge. We agreed to ask two strangers we met on our way to the registrar's to be our witnesses. We found two lovely people offered to help and just got married. No big deal.'

'No big deal!' Mrs. Hudson cried. 'You two got married! That's always a big deal. I'm so happy for you boys.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.' Sherlock nodded.

'Do you even know the names of the strangers who signed?' Lestrade asked.

'I haven't looked at the papers.' Sherlock answered curtly.

Later, they inspected the marriage papers only to find the names were Mary Morstan and Sebastian Moran.

* * *

**A/N: well, that wasn't good. And I apologize because I kinda cheated my way out of the wedding scene, but you have to admit Sherlock wouldn't have the big frilly wedding... :) ok bye.**


	32. Wonderful

**A/N: prompted with lazy days and The Eye. Enjoy!**

* * *

'John, do you have any plans on getting up in the next couple HOURS?' Sherlock moaned.

'No.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm having a lazy day.' John grumbled and curled further into his blankets. Sherlock rolled across the bed until he was practically on top of John.

'But John... I'm bored! Bored. Bored. Bored.'

'Yes. That's nice, Sherlock. I'm not getting up.' John tightened into his fetal position. Sherlock groaned and throw himself back to the otherwise of the bed. John thought Sherlock was finally going to leave him alone to sleep. No such luck.

Long pale fingers started to prod his back. The jabs steadily grew harder and harder until his whole body was rocking in time with Sherlock's pokes. John tried to stand his ground and not react to Sherlock ministrations because that's exactly what he wanted.

'Jesus Christ, Sherlock. What do you want?' John unfurled from his comfortable ball of warmth to face the impatient detective. Sherlock cocked his head to the side and squinted his eyes.

'Im under the impression that since you are my boyfriend you are obligated to entertain me.'

John scoffed.

'Where did you hear that?'

'Various sources.' Sherlock averted his eyes.

'Maybe you should find a way to entertain yourself with out shooting walls, causing explosions, or doing any other harmful activities. What happened to the ears Moly gave you?'

'They were toes, and you threw them out. That is yet another reason you should entertain me.' Sherlock scowled. John gave a long suffering sigh and heaved himself up. There was no way he was going to get a proper lie-in when Sherlock was like this.

'Fine. I'll get up, but what am I supposed to do?' John cleared the sleep out of his voice and threw a long robe over his pajamas.

'I don't know. That's precisely why I asked you to entertain me.' Sherlock sprawled out across the bed in fake exasperation. John shuffled over to sit back down next to Sherlock and placed a gentle hand on Sherlock's chest. They sat in companionable silence until John got an idea.

'Why don't we go down to the South Bank of the River Thames? We can go on The Eye and then eat at that French restaurant you like.' John smiled down at his incredibly frustrating yet endearing detective.

'Brasserie Blanc.' Sherlock states monotonously.

'Yes, that's the one.' John pats his chest. 'It could be like a date?'

'Id fine that suitable.'

The odd couple exited the tube hand-in-hand at the Waterloo station. It was the closest stop and only a five minute walk to The Eye. They strolled lazily in the summer morning's heat. It was actually hot enough for Sherlock to leave the flat with out his coat.

'Would you like to go on The Eye first? It's still a bit early for food.' John looked around at his simple titanium watch. It read 10:27.

'Im fine either way.' Sherlock's eyes scanned the large crowd of people subconsciously deducing everyone.

'Well, then I suggest we head over to The Eye before the queue gets too long. It just opened at 10 so the it shouldn't be too bad, eh?' John lead Sherlock over to the ticket booth. The queue for the booth wasn't all that terrible. They manage to slip through in five minutes. John ordered for two adults, but when he went to dig out his card a strong hand stopped him.

'Allow me.' Sherlock explained while passing over his own card. John was taken back by the unusual gesture and grinned.

'Thank you. That's very kind.' They walk off before Sherlock responds.

'Its not all that kind considering we have joint bank accounts.' John can see Sherlock's faint smirk in the corner of his eye.

The queue for getting onto The Eye is a bit longer than that at the ticket booth. John and Sherlock stand basking in the summer heat for a good thirty minutes before it's their turn. A young teen snaps up their tickets and directs them into their cab. Since they were one of the last groups on the Ferris wheel started to move shortly after the got on.

John stood on the farthest edge admiring the skyline. From his spot he could see the Big Ben and Buckingham Palace. His eye traced the line between the top of the buildings and the sky. He sigh contents and turned to Sherlock.

Much to his dismay Sherlock didn't seem to be enjoying it as much as he was. Sherlock was standing with his hand firmly wrapped around the bannister. His knuckles were white.

'Whats wrong, Sherlock?' John rest a reassuring hand on Sherlock's shoulder.

'It appears that I haven't gotten over my childhood fear of heights.' Sherlock pants.

'Oh, I'm sorry. Why did you agree to come on if you had a fear of heights?'

'You seemed excited about it. I didn't want to disappoint you.'

'You could never disappoint me. Come here.' John opened his armed as gestured for Sherlock to rest his head in the crook between his shoulder and neck. 'Close your eyes and pretend we aren't high up.'

They stood for the rest of the ride bundled in each other's arms. John carefully stroked Sherlock's back and hair. Sherlock nuzzled his face into John's neck and mumbled a thanks. Their cab finally came to halt and the door was opened. The couple stepped out. John took up Sherlock's hand again. He offered a comforting squeeze before they went to the restaurant.

The rest of their date went just perfectly. There wasn't anymore hidden fears or long queues. John and Sherlock just enjoyed each other's company before heading back to the tube. The tube ride was a out 15 minutes long. They arrived at 221b Baker Street around 1:30 in the afternoon.

John and Sherlock were laughing a bit too loudly when they enter. It caused Mrs. Hudson to step away from her afternoon baking and check on her boys.

'Have a nice day then?' Mrs. Hudson asked cheerily in her apron and big oven-mitts.

'Wonderful.' Sherlock answered.


	33. Love is madness

Sherlock hissed in pain. He tried to jerk back his arm, but John saw it coming and tightened his grip.

'Be careful?' Sherlock yelped.

'I wouldn't have to be careful if you were careful in the first place!' John pressed a bit harder against the cotton gauze covering Sherlock's wound in retribution. Sherlock hissed again.

Sherlock had earlier attempted to mix lead styphnate and tetryl. His goal was to see how the chemicals coexisted. A case relied on his answer. Sherlock had be taken by surprise when the reaction exploded. The glass beaker shattered and blew everywhere. Sherlock had gotten acid burns on his fingers and a ghastly cut from flying glass pieces. He quickly cleaned up the chemical to keep them from causing further damage and threw away the glass shards before he noticed the blood dripping from his arm. His skin was blistering hot and turning an angry red color around the wound. At the seam of his cut the skin was pale yellow. Sherlock deemed the 'scratch' not life threatening and decided it could wait for John to return home from surgery.

'Its not as though I was expecting the reaction to blow up and send glass projectiles everywhere. If I had known I would have prepared properly.' Sherlock voice faltered as John gently stroked a Q-Tip covered in hydrogen peroxide over the cut. The effervescent fluid caused his nerve to jump and come alive. The wound spread from the base of Sherlock's palm to the crook of his elbow. The cut had seeped a consistent stream of blood for the past hour and a half. The hydrogen peroxide mixed with the layer of blood and sweat on Sherlock's forearms. It began to bubble rapidly and turn a cloudy white color.

Sherlock watched John intently as he cared for the wound. Sherlock always had a weak spot for John in doctor mode. Not that he ever hurt himself on purpose, but he loved to see how gentle and definite John was with his hands. With practiced ease John wiped away the hydrogen peroxide and thick red liquid from Sherlock's arm. He then pat the cut dry before adding several plasters to the wound. As John pealed the wax paper from the second plaster Sherlock spoke up.

'Thank you.' Sherlock said stiffly. John smiled weakly and placed a chaste kiss over the bandage.

'Its no problem.' John carried on dressing the wound. To each of the small cotton rectangles He added copious amounts of Neosporin. The jelly like ointment cooled the skin around the cut providing mild relief from the scorching heat caused by the cut.

'It may scar.' John frowned with distaste. He wasn't too keen on the idea of his lover having a new scar. Sherlock already had plenty to spare.

'I don't mind.' Sherlock smirk softly. 'It will remind me to not be so reckless.'

'No matter how many scars or close to death experiences you will never not be reckless. It's part of who you are.' John hands lingered on the freshly bandaged wound. He pulled his finger tips across the plasters softly and lovingly.

'Im sorry.' Sherlock whispered.

'Dont be sorry. I wouldn't change a thing. I just worry about you and don't want to see you get hurt.' John pushed back Sherlock's wild hair from his eyes. 'Thats not too crazy, right?'

Sherlock shook his head. The two men sat in the kitchen for a while longer. The doctor with his legs tucked under his body and pressed into the floor. The detective slumped tiredly on the chair looking down.

'Does it bother you?' Sherlock mumbled quietly. His voice was barely loud enough to hear.

'Does what bother me?' John placed a comforting arm on Sherlock's bicep. He began to draw simple circles into the skin. John was expecting a snarky remark about how obtuse he was being, but was pleasantly surprised when Sherlock supplied none.

'Does it bother you that I am careless? That I go out to chase murders down the streets of London by myself and when I'm not doing that I'm creating the next atomic bomb in our kitchen?' Sherlock explained further. John was not so pleasantly surprised this time. He could practically hear the pain in Sherlock's voice.

'No, it doesn't. Do you know why?' John looked at Sherlock. He scanned his face in search of eye contact. Sherlock shook his head again. 'Because you don't chase murders in London by yourself. You alway have me there by your side. Plus, I have a hard time believing that small miscalculation will be the next atomic bomb.'

'Thank you.' Sherlock spoke timidly.

'Like I said before, it's no problem.' John stated confidently. He grinned his beautiful lop-sided smile as Sherlock finally lifted his head. Their eyes met. Sherlock's pale green and John's deep blue.

'I am thankful for your exceptional doctoring skills, but that's not what I'm speaking about now.' Sherlock took a deep breath as if it was difficult to get out the next part. 'Thank you for handling my madness and still loving me.'

'When love is not madness, it is not love.' John quoted.

'Pedro Calderon de la Barca.' Sherlock gave a small grunt of laughter. Truer word could not have been said between these two. Even if the quotation is from a 17th century Spanish poet.

* * *

**A/N: I hope that was okay. I was happy with the descriptions and detail. Here praying it was acceptable :/ let me know, please.**

**_Also important note._****.. I've started writing up a multi chapter fic.. YAY! I have the first chapter down and a basic plot line ready. I'm hoping to get the first three chapter written before I post the first chapter, but expect it posted by the end if the week!  
I'm excited.. Are you? P.s. I need a beta-reader.. Any takers? No? Okay.**

**Sorry for a long author's note, but it was kinda important.**


	34. Better not to have asked

A/N: write a johnlock fic from an outside point of view.. Hmm? Why not!

* * *

The day Molly walked in on John and Sherlock snogging in the lab was a very confusing day to say the least. It all started when Sherlock came dashing to the morgue at six in the morning because he had some sort of revelation.

'Molly, I require the newest body you have for experimentation.' Sherlock's eyes were wide with excitement and his hair more disheveled than usual. Of course, Molly complied. She stood from the corner watching him. She admired his crazy ways and was still quite infatuated. Molly licked her lips at Sherlock's almost debauched look.

She continued to stare. Molly noticed the subtle pink tinge to his normal pale lips and his content smirk. Although his clothes were pristine in quality, they looked a little off. They look like Sherlock had thrown them on hastily in order to get here as fast as possible.  
Molly wondered why he had left the house like that. Normally Sherlock never left 221b Baker Street in anything but perfection. Not that Molly cared. No. In fact, she quite liked this version of Sherlock. It made him more human and attainable.

Molly swore she heard Sherlock mutter something a out forgetting to tell John he had left, but ignored it in favor of ogling Sherlock. She didn't stop until He notice her stares. Sherlock gave her a strained and confused look. Molly blushed heavily before excusing herself.

As she bustled down the hall toward the little store where they sold coffee she ran into a very grumpy John. John was storming down the hall grumbling under his breath. His clothes, too, were askew. John looked as though he also tossed them on in haste. His hair was wild and eye were lidded with sleep.

'Molly, thank god. Do you know where the great prick, Sherlock Homes, is?' John aggressive tone made Molly stutter a bit more than usual. Eventually, she was able to get out that he was in the morgue. John thanked her in polite British fashion before striding down the hall toward Sherlock. Moly couldn't help, but compare him to a tiny tyrant.

Last thing she saw was the door fling open and slam behind the tiny tyrant. Molly shook her head. She carried on to get that coffee she originally left for and maybe a bag of crisps.

Fumbling with her coffee, crisps, and the door to the morgue, Molly almost dropped her cup. She finally got the door open. When she saw John and Sherlock inside she almost dropped her cup for the second time. John sat on Sherlock lap. They were piled on the stool passionately kissing. She was like a deer in the head lights. Molly just stood wide eyed and mouth slack.

After a few seconds she collected her thoughts and ran out. Molly was fairly certain they hadn't seen her, but she still went as far as possible. She just couldn't face them right now because Molly was still mad for Sherlock. Now, she knew she just couldn't be. It would be so wrong. They were clearly in love. She scolded herself for not putting it together early. Molly saw everything, but just didn't observe.

Molly saw they way they looks at each other. The unexplainable side glances and smirks. The occasional blush and the way they almost always sat too close. She saw how if John and Sherlock weren't touching they were trying to lean closer or reach out to touch. She saw the comfort and safety they found in touch. When either were hurt, she saw how they immediately were in search of the other. They way John would smile proudly when Sherlock notice something no one else did. She saw how Sherlock's eye twinkled when John came into the room.

Her back hit the wall and she slid down. Tears were brimming on her lashes. Right as the were about to fall over John came out. His hair even wilder than before, but a soft kindness resided in his eyes that weren't there earlier.

'Oh, hello, John. I um- sorry I walked in. I shouldn't have done that. I'm so sorry. It won't happen again. Well, uh- congratulations.' She stood and dusted her lap coat off. Molly hung her head in embarrassment. As she stuttered through her small speech she fidgeted constantly.

'No, don't be sorry. I'm serious, Molly. This is my fault. We should have been snogging in a morgue. This isn't exactly how I planned to tell you.' John said as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'Sorry.'

'No need to be sorry. You guys are perfect together, really. I shouldn't have-' Molly's voice trailed off. She gave him a genuine smile. 'Im happy for you two. I've been wondering why he was happier. I guess we know now.'

John laughed.

'Well, I hope so.' A soft red tone spread across John's cheeks. 'Thank you, Molly.'

'No problem.' She grinned. 'I do have one question, though.'

'Oh? Okay. What is it?' John's eye shone with true curiosity.

'What were you so worked up about when you came charging in thos morning looking for Sherlock? I know he can be infuriating, but you seemed quite upset.' Molly chuckle at her own joke and John's pink cheeks grew to a deep and dark red color.

'Oh, nothing really.' He covered.

'That was most certainly not nothing.'

'Well, he uh- he left early.' John explained and Molly's was shame long forgotten when she prodded him for more details. 'We were having a lie-in, of sorts, and he kind of just hopped out of bed. He left me there. I wasn't too happy.'

Molly's eye shot wide in realization.

Better not to have asked. She thought.

* * *

A/N: sorry, that was short and weird. I wanted to try the Molly's POV thing. Hoped you enjoyed it!


End file.
